Albus Potter and the Lunar Eclipse
by NoahPhantom
Summary: NOW COMPLETE! BOOK 2/7. Sequel to "Albus Potter and the Global Revelation." Structured like original HP books. Albus begins year 2 at Hogwarts, immediately becoming immersed in the mysteries of a suspicious Lunar Eclipse festival and strange noises coming from the forest and under the castle. Longer summary inside. Book 4 coming soon. A one thousand review series so far!
1. Gimmick and Bagshot

_**Hi! We've arrived at the second book! It's going to be epic.**_

_**If you haven't perused the first installment of this series, Albus Potter and the Global Revelation, I HIGHLY recommend that you do so, or you will be VERY lost throughout ALL of this book. These are like the original Harry Potter series in that they are sequential. The first chapter of this book pretty much ruins all of the first one, but it doesn't give you any of the crucial plot exposition that takes place in the first. There are even going to be spoilers in this next paragraph, so take caution if this is your inaugural visit to the series.**_

_**Albus has now entered his second year of Hogwarts studies. After the events of the first book, the world is drastically different than it was just a year ago. He hopes that school will provide an escape from the insanity of the post-global-revelation world... of course, anyone who knows the Potters knows that this is an impossibility. In this year, Albus will experience the most horrifying moments of his young life so far. A serial killer on the loose, the reappearance of a missing man who brings a stunning mystery, a secret festival on the date of a lunar eclipse, strange sounds from under the castle, and inexplicable movement in the forest? The world is not safe anymore, but now, not even Hogwarts is safe.**_

* * *

ALBUS POTTER AND THE LUNAR ECLIPSE

CONTENTS

O

ONE

Gimmick and Bagshot

O

TWO

Back to the Castle

O

THREE

Quidditch Tryouts

O

FOUR

The Resident Wolf

O

FIVE

Loki, Pokey, Polo, and Pent

O

SIX

The Lunar Eclipse Festival

O

SEVEN

The Werewolf Hunter

O

EIGHT

Solemnly Sworn

O

NINE

The Lunar Eclipse

O

TEN

Nightmare

O

ELEVEN

The Fighting Spirit

O

TWELVE

Rumors of War

O

THIRTEEN

A.R.M.

O

FOURTEEN

Off the Map

O

FIFTEEN

The Next Great Adventure

O

CHAPTER ONE

GIMMICK AND BAGSHOT

O

The eyelids slowly lifted, a familiar sound having roused the twelve-year-old boy wizard. Based on the noise emanating from below, Harry was teaching James that charm again, the complicated one that he said was crucial to learn if they were ever threatened by Dark creatures.

Albus Severus Potter waited for his limbs to become fully functional before he pulled himself out of bed to check on his brother's progress. The familiar voices from downstairs suggested that James hadn't yet advanced too far from yesterday morning.

"Now, which memory were you using this time?"

"That one where I got Lucy pretty good in the face with a pie…"

"James… really? This is the most basic part of the charm and you still haven't taken any of my advice. This memory needs to be something _deep_. Something _meaningful._ This charm is going to protect you from the worst sorts of evil, and you expect that darkness to be parted by the thought of a childhood prank? Your memory needs to come from a place inside you that carries you through the hardest times in your life; you need to think of this memory as your tether to life, the reason you must protect yourself at all costs. Get a memory like that and try again."

"_Expecto Patronum!_"

Albus plodded down the stairs sleepily to see a small wisp of a strange light emitting from James's wand.

"Better, much better—you see that silver smoke? A protective wall is hard enough, but it's extremely difficult to form a corporeal Patronus. That's because you have to give that spell so much energy that your memory takes on a life of its own, a sentience that will defend you from your worst nightmares. Do it again."

"Dad, I'm exhausted…"

"Yes, yes, all right, we'll take a break for now. Regenerate your Kinesis. Eat breakfast and get ready to go, and if we run into Uncle Percy today, don't tell him that I've been letting you practice magic in the house."

Harry glanced over as Albus began scavenging for breakfast foods. "Al! How nice of you to join us, that's gotta be the latest you've ever slept!"

Albus grunted and continued searching for sustenance.

"I thought you were going to be up with the sun, seeing as how we're going to Diagon Alley today," Harry continued. "Your friends are actually there already, it's past eleven!"

"It is?" said Albus sleepily.

He had stayed up late trying the Patronus Charm with the instructions he'd heard while eavesdropping on his father and brother. He had made absolutely no progress; not even the slightest sputter of silver had been seen all night. The effort involved had exhausted him so thoroughly that he'd fallen asleep in his clothes.

"It's so nice to have you here in the mornings," said Ginny, walking into the room. "Thank you for taking the night shifts this week so we can go to Diagon Alley as a family. I promise we'll be quick so that you can come home and sleep."

"I don't need that much sleep," said Harry. "I've got that supply of Cerespitite; it should allow me to easily deal with sleeping only a couple hours a day. The side effects of anxiety and edginess won't show up if I'm getting some sleep and only taking small doses for a week."

"Let's hope not, you're going into a joke shop," laughed Ginny.

"Did Albus bury Flibley?" asked Harry, more quietly.

Albus glanced out the kitchen window, to where there was a small gravestone next to a smaller mound of soft dirt with a flower laid on top. He sighed and asked the toaster for waffles; it chimed a second later and he pulled them out, piping hot.

"Yes, he did," whispered Ginny back. "It was very sad for him, but he's looking forward to getting an owl of his own."

"At least it happened right before going to Diagon Alley, as opposed to right after," said Harry.

"So… Do you have any hilarious stories from the office to help ease the tension in these troubled times?"

"Oh, yeah, of course," said Harry. From the tone of his voice, Albus could tell that his father was grinning. "Of course there's some of that. Just last night, we got a claim from an older man, a former police officer, I forget the name; he said he was certain that magical memory modification was the cause of his inexplicable urge to name his child 'Elvendork.'"

Ginny snorted.

"Some of these people are just idiots," said Harry. "There's some in every community, I suppose."

"Village idiots are a hazard that comes with having any village," replied Ginny.

Slowly, Albus regained full consciousness, and realized what he was missing with every second he took to eat breakfast: Aidan Finch-Fletchley, Alec McKinnon, and Eftan Griffiths were all at Diagon Alley, waiting for him. And he was going to get an owl today, who would be a friend to him for a very long time to come.

He scarfed down his pancakes and ran to the fireplace eagerly.

"Ah, look who's among the living," said Ginny, laughing. "Are you ready to go already? Did you eat breakfast?"

"Just did, Mum," said Albus.

"Can we get Fortescue's today?" asked James, heading over to the fireplace as well. Lily was shortly behind him. "Farah always gives us free ice cream when she's there."

"We'll get it for you, even if her hard-nosed brother is heading the shop today," said Harry. "And you look positively perky, sir. I'm not sure why we had to cut off our lesson on account of exhaustion!"

James groaned in exaggerated exasperation. "Oh, come ON, Dad. There's _no way_ I'm going to get this before we go back to school next week; I don't see the point in doing this every morning!"

"You can get it," said Harry sternly. "I believe in you. I was almost a full year younger than you when I did it!"

"Wait!" said Ginny as Harry was about to reach for some Floo powder. "Do we have the school letters? We marked them up to see if we needed any backups of any of the items."

"Oops," said Harry. "That might be helpful. Al, James, are there any books for this year that are different from last year's?"

"We need that fourth edition of Modern Magical History," said James. "They just updated it or something. And if we bring our third editions back to the bookstore, they'll just convert them to fourth edition for a much lower price."

"Hear that, honey?" yelled Harry.

Ginny walked in with the books and the lists. "Already was on it."

"Poor Modern Magical History writers," laughed Harry. "First edition, and then Voldemort comes around. Then Voldemort's gone, and they get out a second edition including the First Wizarding War. Then the Second Wizarding War sixteen years later when Voldemort returns, and they spend the next few years after that making a third edition. Then the Dark Revival, and they have to come out with a fourth edition. And now they just completed the fourth edition, and there goes the International Statute of Secrecy! They're going to have to make a fifth edition in another few years when the dust settles after this."

"But they're having a field day with the new Muggle audience," said Ginny. "Don't pity them too much. Muggles are picking up copies of magical history books all over the place out of curiosity… they've got a much larger audience now; they're getting richer than goblins in a gold mine."

"Ready?" asked Harry.

The three kids nodded excitedly.

Harry took a handful of the glittering gray powder and threw it into the fireplace. "Weasley's Wizard Wheezes!" he yelled, disappearing into the bright green flames.

Albus, James, Lily and their mother did the same. Albus was first, and he tumbled after his father into the shop, brushing the ash off of his clothes.

"There he is."

He looked up to his father's voice, and saw Aidan, Alec, and Eftan all with their parents in the store. After hugs from being reunited with his friends, Albus shook all of the parents' hands, introducing himself, and Harry and Ginny started doing the same when Ginny arrived.

Albus's parents already knew Aidan's mother and stepfather, Laura and Justin. Alec's parents had never met Harry, and they were very excited to be in his presence; Mr. McKinnon's aunt and uncle had died fighting Voldemort, and Harry was sort of a household celebrity. Eftan's parents had only recently heard about Harry when the details of the magical world came out to the Muggles, and they greeted him nervously.

"From a Muggle perspective, what was it like for all of your friends when the magical world came out of hiding?" asked Harry after he and Ginny and Eftan's parents had introduced themselves.

"Very few of them believed it," said Mrs. Griffiths. "Eftan told me it was happening, so I invited all of our friends to our place to watch the news. They all thought that it was a joke, and kept asking me how I got to be in on it, and I explained that Eftan was a wizard. They continued to think I was joking, until we got out Eftan's new broom and they watched him hover in place. And then…"

"All hell broke loose," said Mr. Griffiths. "Most of our friends ran screaming from the house; the others kept looking for wires, and blanched when they realized that he really was levitating. Most of them apologized afterwards for overreacting, of course, but some of our friends still believe that Eftan is a devil-worshipper, and that we should do the right thing and get someone to perform an exorcism on him."

George strolled over and introduced himself to the six parents. Shortly after, they began to talk about politics again, but this time, Albus wasn't finding it so boring.

"You hear about that testimonial in the _Prophet?"_ asked George as the painting of Fred sailed over. "The one about the Muggle woman whose husband died in the car crash?"

"And how magic could have saved him if the Wizarding world hadn't been so greedy in keeping magic to themselves?" asked Mrs. McKinnon, sighing. "Yes, Carl and I saw that one, too."

"So did we," said Justin. "What do you think about it, Reba?"

Mrs. McKinnon bit her lower lip and her eyes jumped from one parent to another guiltily. "Well… having a Muggle mother, myself… I have to say… I don't see where she's faulted in her reasoning. We _could_ have saved her husband."

"How many of them could we have saved?" asked Harry, shrugging. "There are so many more Muggles in the world than there are wizards. Even if every wizard in existence was tirelessly working to cure any sick Muggle they came across, we wouldn't be able to do it all. Not to mention that we have our own sick people to take care of. And aren't Muggles developing their own cures? Eventually they'll get to a point where they can take care of the same illnesses and injuries that we can, but not if we interfere in their health system by curing everything with magic. If we do that, there wouldn't be any reason for them to keep attempting to find remedies, and any wizard who studies Healing would essentially be a slave of Muggle hospitals."

"I see your point," said Mrs. Griffiths, "but still I feel that there's some mutual trust to be gained by assisting those who do not have the privilege of magic."

"Agreed," said Ginny, "but we can't risk spoiling non-magic people, as if they have some sense of entitlement to our services, because there honestly just aren't enough wizards to go around."

"Whatever," said Alec, yawning. "Hey, Albus, how was your summer?"

"Pretty good," said Albus, and on average, it was; but he could remember several days that didn't go very well and brought the average down.

First, there was the day he'd come home on the Hogwarts Express, and witnessed the death of a fellow student's father in King's Cross Station. No matter how much he disliked Red Pierce for the Slytherin's disapproval of Muggle-borns, the loss of a parent was never less than an absolute tragedy.

Then, on the day of the global revelation, the Potters' neighbors, the Dempseys, had pieced together all of the strange things they remembered witnessing in the Potters' residence, and had shut themselves in their house for protection. They had not mingled with the Potters ever since, and it had been over a month.

Shortly after that, Harry had been called to try and help track a serial killer who had apparently surfaced days after the global revelation. He hadn't come back for two full weeks, and after returning, he told them that the mission wasn't even successful; the Auror department could not track this man. Ginny was very unhappy with Harry for leaving them for two weeks and coming back with nothing to show, and she was clearly struggling not to be passive-aggressive to him for the rest of the day.

And then yesterday, Flibley had died. As much as he made fun of the fact that Flibley was older than he was, he missed the owl; it had been a faithful friend to him during his first year. At least the timing was convenient, he thought morbidly.

"My cousins are all totally jealous that I'm going to wizard school," said Eftan. "They got annoyed that I couldn't show them magic, though. They didn't believe that the Ministry immediately knows when magic is used in a Muggle home, they thought that I was just a sissy making excuses for why he doesn't want to break the rules."

"The world is weirdly different now," said Aidan. "My dad takes out the trash with magic now. The neighbors watch it like we've scheduled a display of fireworks."

"Talk to Holly at all this summer?" asked Alec, grinning.

"Actually, no," said Albus. "We haven't corresponded."

Holly had kissed Albus on the cheek shortly before they left King's Cross, but she hadn't written him a letter this summer. Albus wondered if she just didn't think to, or if she figured that they could see each other when they got back to Hogwarts.

"Me and Mia talked," said Alec, clearly proud of himself.

"Mia and I," corrected Aidan. Even outside of school, he couldn't help being a know-it-all.

"Does your uncle have any new prank stuff?" asked Eftan, glancing around the aisles.

"I don't know," said Albus. "He just came out with a big new line of Scheming Sweets. I think he's dry on ideas at the moment."

"I love this shop," said Alec, wandering over to the toy figurines of Voldemort dueling baby Harry Potter and losing.

Albus followed him to look around again; he never got tired of this shop, either. Another row of figurines showed Adelina Nelson, whose death was the very day on which Albus was born, which was also the day that the Dark Revival ended; and now, it the exact day twelve years preceding the global revelation. Adelina had a large snake curled around her shoulders and a fierce look on her young face.

"Sylvester is undeniably her nephew," laughed Eftan, pointing. "She's got a snake curled around her shoulders in the exact same pose he likes to make with Razka."

"Who's Razka?" asked Alec.

"His snake, the one he had on the Hogwarts Express last year."

"Who the heck names a snake?"

"Voldemort?"

James walked over to Albus and his friends; while the adults were talking, he had reunited with two of his usual group of four friends, Gavin Thoreau and Marco Murray.

"Yo, little bro, we're hitting up Fortescue's for some ice cream," he said, the level of swagger in his voice increased now that friends were around. "Mum gave me money for all of us, want to come?"

"Sure," said Albus, and his friends agreed.

Soon they were all treated to deliciously cold ice cream treats from Farah Fortescue, who always gave James and Albus free cones. Ginny's money ended up covering all five of the friends. She and Harry, along with Mr. and Mrs. Griffiths, showed up as they were finishing to pick up their kids for continued shopping.

"We want to get back around one o'clock today," said Harry, checking his watch.

"What?" said James thickly through the last bites of his ice cream, squeezing his eyes shut from brain freeze. "Why?"

"Because roughly one o'clock is when the full moon strikes," said Harry. "You remember Gaimond's Law from your classes, don't you? Thonner Gaimond did a massive amount of research into Kinesis and volition, he's one of the most respected magical authorities of the last century. On the full moon, you'll tire faster, but your spells will be at their most powerful—who knows, it could be the bump that you need to finally get your Patronus to take shape."

"We tried the full moon last month," grunted James, massaging his forehead as Alec developed a brain freeze of his own. "I didn't feel any difference at all."

"Yes, well, there was a lunar eclipse," said Harry, chuckling. "I didn't see that coming. Our practice session was rather unfortunately timed. I didn't even know then that lunar eclipses are when magic is at its weakest. And besides, you've come very far from last month, so it's worth another shot at the full moon."

They tossed their garbage and got up to leave.

"Are you going to come do your shopping with us now?" asked Albus. "Or have you already done it?"

"We've done most of it," said Aidan; Eftan and Alec nodded. "But maybe we'll catch you at our last few stops. We're going to Flourish and Blotts, and then Eeylops to get owls. Our parents say they want to hear from us more often. You know how it is. They're nervous… because of what the world is like now."

"Our family usually goes to the Magical Menagerie," said Albus. "So we probably won't see you guys… But I'll see you in a week!"

"We'll be seeing too much of each other in a week," said Alec in agreement.

Albus, James, and Lily followed their parents down the alley. Ginny ran a few quick errands of her own while Harry took the kids to the Apothecary to pick up Potions ingredients for James, then to Madam Malkin's for new robes to fit James's growth spurt, then Obscurus Books to upgrade their _Modern Magical History_ textbooks to the fourth edition. Ginny met them coming out of Obscurus Books, and they started walking down to their final stop: the Magical Menagerie.

James had already been asked if he wanted to hand Thoebl down to Albus and get a new owl of his own, but he declined; he loved his owl. So Albus was going to be able to finally get an owl that was his and always his. He wondered what kind would be best.

They walked into the bright shop, which was as always very pleasing to the eye. There was a little girl named Sophie here, usually; she was the daughter of the owner, Mr. Rocksbone. Sophie oversaw decoration of the place. Little drawings of cats and owls danced around the sides of the shop. Once Sophie had finished drawing a cat or an owl or a mouse or a toad on the wall, Mr. Rocksbone would perform some interesting kind of spell to animate them, which always delighted his daughter to no end.

He looked around at the owls. They all looked perky and affable… the Great Horned Owls were huge, the snowy owls were handsome and looked at him with interest… how would he ever decide which one he wanted? Maybe he should just go around to all of them, look at all of them, maybe hold all of them. Perhaps he would feel something, like he did with his wand, when there was a special connection brewing.

Then suddenly, he felt something brush up against his leg. He looked down and saw the most adorable, scruffy black kitten he'd ever laid eyes on. It was from a pack of six other kittens at the other side of the store, but this one had split from the pack to come say hello. He picked it up and looked into its eyes—they were green like his own, and they stared into each others' eyes for a while. Its fur was sleek black with patterns of thin white lines dancing across it like random chalk marks on a blackboard.

"I see Gimmick came over to say hi," said Mr. Rocksbone as he walked across the shop to greet the Potters.

"Gimmick?" asked Albus, putting down the kitten; it was a charming name.

"Yes. Sophie named him; she names all of our kittens. His nickname is Mick."

Mr. Rocksbone scratched Gimmick behind the ears, and the kitten bared his tiny teeth in appreciation. Gimmick continued to brush up against Albus's leg.

"He really likes you," laughed Mr. Rocksbone.

"I really like him," said Albus. "Can I get a cat, Mum?" he asked, turning to his mother excitedly.

"A cat?" asked Ginny, furrowing her brow. "But… didn't you want an owl of your own? So that you can write home?"

"I can use school owls, or Thoebl," said Albus. "Come on, Mum, look at this!" He picked Gimmick up and held him up to Ginny's face.

Gimmick must have had an adorable expression on his scruffy face, because Albus could see his mother's heart melting.

"Part-Kneazle," said Mr. Rocksbone. "Intelligent little rascal, and the most attractive cross-bred cat I've seen. Mrs. Figg was very distraught to part with him."

James didn't have a cat. Was Albus finally about to get something that his brother never had?

"Please, Mum?" said Albus, shaking Gimmick in front of Ginny's face for emphasis. The little kitten lay relaxed in his grip, purring.

"He's a character," said Mr. Rocksbone. "He's always jumping around the place; he needs to stand on everything that has a top. He went after the birds and rats once—but just once. I told him off that first time and he's listened and remembered ever since. Curious, and a gentle soul, too. And he doesn't just follow the pack, as you've seen."

Albus had already made his decision before Mr. Rocksbone's monologue. Gimmick looked contentedly around the shop again; he made no move to struggle. Apparently he enjoyed seeing the store from this angle.

"He does seem remarkably good-natured," said Harry.

"He is," said the store-owner. "You want him?"

Albus nodded vigorously. The kitten started to wrestle his grip slightly, so Albus put him on the ground. Immediately, Gimmick jumped up onto his pant leg and climbed all the way up to his shoulder and sat there, purring sharply out of uncontrollable joy.

Lily had been allowed to purchase an owl, too, to offset the misery of not being able to attend Hogwarts for another year. She chose, as Albus could probably have guessed, the fluffiest, sweetest-looking owl in the room, a tiny pygmy owl that hadn't yet been named by Sophie.

Harry got out the money. Albus scratched behind Gimmick's ear, and the kitten purred even louder, craning his head up to enjoy the scratches to their fullest.

"So, is Sophie at Hogwarts?" said Harry as he laid out the correct change.

"Next year she will be."

"Ah, really? Lily will be starting then!"

After a bit more boring adult conversation, Harry finally handed over the money to make the purchase final, and they walked out of the store with Gimmick still rubbing against Albus's face.

"You happy, Gimmick? You're coming with me to Hogwarts!"

Gimmick almost seemed to know what this meant, and he pushed his way off of Albus's shoulder and down his leg, then ran around his feet in circles. His furry face was wild with excitement.

"What are you going to name him, Lily?" asked Ginny.

"Bagshot," replied Lily immediately. "It's a funny name."

"Bagshot?" laughed Harry. "Like Bathilda Bagshot?"

"Just Bagshot. Right, Bagshot?"

She reached through the cage and poked her owl's head, and it wobbled back and forth on its bar and hooted cutely.

As they approached Potage's Cauldron Shop, they recognized voices, and Albus's head perked up in excitement. After nearly stepping on Gimmick for a third time, since the kitten was running around his legs like an obstacle course, he picked up the little ball of fluff and ran for the familiar group of four.

"My word!" said Uncle Ron, staring through the window at Potage's. "Look at those absolutely _gorgeous_ cauldron bottoms. Your Uncle Percy is behind those beauties, kids; be proud!"

"_Ronald!_" yelled Aunt Hermione. Their kids laughed, and then Rose gave a squeal of delight as she saw Albus and Lily did the same when she saw Hugo.

"Thought we were going to see you here," said Harry, opening his arms to hug Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione. "How goes the shopping?"

"Not bad at all," said Uncle Ron. "Have you seen the Muggle bus tour?"

"The what?"

"The Muggle bus tour," he said. "It's hilarious…" He turned around and put a hand up to shield his eyes against the sun. "Oh, excellent—here it is now!"

Albus looked over and saw a very thin bus weaving through the crowded streets. It resembled what the Knight Bus looked like from the outside when it stretched itself thin. Extremely skinny people were packed into the bus, though it was probably roomier on the inside due to advanced spellwork; they were pressed against the windows with cameras.

"They're taking groups of Muggles on tours through Diagon Alley," said Uncle Ron. "Never thought I'd see the day!"

"It's rather obstructive to traffic," said Aunt Hermione in her classic disapproval voice.

"I think a few seconds of our time is worth such a hilarious display of—"

"Harry! Ronald!"

Three men were walking towards them; they would have stood out from the crowd to Albus even if they hadn't hailed his father and uncle. The man who shook Harry's hand first was very, very tall and had rather thin arms, and had a hungry look in his eye. Albus was reminded strongly of a hunting spider. The second man was about an average height, but muscular and with a threatening air about him that made him seem like a larger presence. He reminded Albus of a stern gorilla. The third man was very, very short and fat, making them quite an awkward group to travel together. His beard gave him a look of permanent disapproval. With his fur coat, despite it being just a week into fall, he looked like a grumpy Puffskein.

"Caradoc Slade, ma'am, I don't think we've met," said the very tall man, shaking Ginny's hand. "I am the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister, your brother."

"Obydin Auchland," said the muscular man, shaking Ginny's hand next. "But we've met."

The very short and pudgy man put his hand up to shake Ginny's as well. "Ottovius Tulta. Pleasure to meet you."

They then turned and introduced themselves to Albus and his siblings and cousins. Lily tried to hide behind her mother; the first two were quite an intimidating pair. Tulta coaxed her into the open, though, with a genuinely warm smile.

"We were hoping to run into you today," said Obydin Auchland immediately afterwards to Harry, all business. "We're visiting the _Daily Prophet_'s main office. We have a name now."

"What?"

"A name," he replied, glaring. "We now have a name with which to work, for the serial murderer whom I sent you and Weasley to track just a short month ago, do you not remember it?"

"I remember," said Harry, his brow settling in mild irritation.

"Then to what else would I have been referring?"

"Get on with it, we're with our families," said Uncle Ron, not bothering to hide his clear agitation with Auchland.

"Slade has been working with the press," he continued indifferently. "We're hoping that some _Prophet_ reader will have information, we think this man is named Ivan Siobor. His background is still hazy. Ever heard of him?"

Harry paused to think. "I thought he was a Russian wandmaker."

"That's right," said Tulta, rocking back and forth on his heels. "But he was always shrouded in mystery. We don't know his parentage, or if he is even Russian. He disappeared roughly around the Dark Revival. People suspected that he joined forces with Ingot, but no one knew what happened to him afterwards."

"How d'you know it's him?" asked Uncle Ron.

"Style," grunted Slade. "Style of attack. Siobor was always experimenting with Diwandology, and further. We've investigated wounds in the victims, and we've determined that the killing strikes always happened more than one at a time."

"So Siobor's brandishing two wands?" asked Harry. "That'll make him difficult to corner, but he'll tire faster if he gets in a fight."

"More than two," said Slade.

Harry furrowed his brow. "You're sure they were simultaneous?"

"Not entirely sure—they were very close together, but if they weren't simultaneous, then some of them had to have been after the target was already killed. Why would he fire multiple shots into the victims when they're already dead?"

"To hide how many wands he's really using," said Uncle Ron.

"A fair speculation," said Tulta. "We'll consider that."

"Have you found a connection between the victims yet?" asked Aunt Hermione.

"We think we have," said Auchland, and he whispered the information to Harry and then to Uncle Ron.

Harry looked distressed. "That's not good," he said. "Then… Helio's…"

"We're on the case," said Auchland. "You should be, too. Your wife can handle the shopping, I'm confident." Ginny narrowed her eyes at him.

Harry folded his arms. "My family is out in public," he said sternly. "I am going to accompany them until such time as the public is safe."

Auchland nodded curtly and set off at a fast pace; Slade kept up easily with his long, spidery legs, but Tulta had to jog to keep up.

Uncle Ron was grinding his teeth. "I can't stand him," he said.

"I know, I know, but rumor has it he's retiring soon," said Harry. "Chinch will probably take over. We'll only have to deal with Auchland for a couple more years."

"Why's he retiring?"

"I think to spend more time training young Aurors," said Harry. "He might even take up a teaching post at Hogwarts; he and Wilcox are close. But Westerling would have to leave; I don't think Auchland would take Charms, for example."

"Let's hope you don't get Auchland," said Uncle Ron darkly. "The man's blunter than a Bludger."

"He's just intense on his work," said Aunt Hermione. "He has to be, or people would accuse him of apathy."

"What did Auchland whisper to you?" asked James; he'd always been nosy like that.

"That's none of your business," said Harry. Albus could have predicted that response.

"Why'd it have to be a secret?"

"Oh, because if a secret is none of your business, the reason for keeping it secret is obviously something I can tell you," laughed Harry.

"Why'd you mention Professor Wilcox?"

Harry shot him a warning glare. "I said that it is none of your business, and I meant it."

James huffed and folded his arms.

Harry glanced at his watch, and turned to Ginny, scratching his sideburns. "You think we should head back now?" he asked. "It's almost time."

"You and your full moon," said Ginny, laughing. "You know it doesn't make THAT much of a difference."

"But what if that small difference is all he needs?" Harry pointed out.

They returned to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, parting from Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione who had some more errands to run, and flew through the Floo network back into their house.

"All right, get out your wand, James!" said Harry. "We're gonna get your Patronus today!"

"No, we're not!" moaned James.

"You're gonna get a corporeal one today, I know it!"

"NO, I'M NOT!"

Albus foraged for food again; why was there never anything good to eat in this house? He settled for a back-up Chocolate Frog, and tore it open. Inside was a card featuring Severus Snape. He smiled.

"_Expecto Patronum!_"

"I can tell you weren't thinking of a happy memory! Come ON, James, I want to see you do this! Don't you know how proud this would make me—you can impress everyone at school, _very_ few people can do a Patronus coming off of their third year!"

Albus looked over. His father certainly had a talent for playing to people's strengths. This bragging opportunity presented to James made him more focused than Albus had ever seen him.

James closed his eyes for a while.

"Good! Focus on the best memory you can find… something that fills you with an inner light to remember… and then let that inner light out!"

Albus read his Chocolate Frog card.

_Severus Snape was a Headmaster of Hogwarts and a triple-agent. Sent to spy on Albus Dumbledore by the infamous Lord Voldemort, he secretly turned from the Death Eaters. He spent the Second Wizarding War passing inside information to the Order of the Phoenix. His life was ended shortly before he could see Dumbledore's final plans through, but his actions lit the path for the end of the Dark Ages._

Albus read the card twice before looking up as James raised his wand again.

"_Expecto Patronum!_"

And out of the tip of his wand burst a spiny creature made of light.

It looked like an iguana, but with sharper edges and small spines sticking up along a ridge on its back. It landed on the back of the couch and spun its head around to look at James, and James dropped his wand in surprise; the phantom animal faded.

Harry yelled out in shock. "YOU DID IT!" he shouted. "YOU DID IT—what was it? Ginny, did you see that?"

Ginny nodded. "I'm not sure. It looked like an iguana, but… pokier. You'd have to get someone who knows animals to classify it exactly."

"It's a tuatara," said Lily matter-of-factly.

The family glanced at her curiously.

"I saw a picture in an animal book," she said. "James's Patronus was a tuatara."

"I'll take your word for it," said Harry. "James, what was your memory?"

James turned red and mumbled something intentionally incomprehensible.

"Sorry?"

He turned away and tucked his head into his shoulders.

"James, what do you have to be embarrassed about a happy memory?" asked Ginny. Then she tilted her head and smirked. "Was it a kiss, or something?"

He shook his head.

"What, then?" asked Harry.

He mumbled again.

"James, spit it out!" said Harry.

James sighed.

"Watching… Seeing Albus get sorted into Gryffindor."

Albus stood in a stupor, convinced for a moment that he had heard wrong. Transfixed, he watched the eyes of his parents and sister shift over to him as his brother shuffled out of the room uncomfortably, and pride swelled up in his heart.


	2. Back to the Castle

_**Props to Andy again for the awesome cover to this second installment, btw.**_

_**I'm going to write little one-shots that take place in between the books, just for background information. I'm not sure how many I'll write. I'll let you know when they're finished.**_

_**Happy reading!**_

* * *

CHAPTER TWO

BACK TO THE CASTLE

O

James's Patronus made daily appearances after he mastered it. The spiky tuatara poked its head out from behind corners and stared at people, or else flew in front of their faces when they were least expecting it. Despite the irritation, Albus grew warm inside whenever he saw James's Patronus, because of the memory that had unlocked the charm for his brother.

The days before the trip back to Hogwarts came and went quickly. Albus kept practicing the Patronus Charm by himself in bed at night, but it was an advanced spell, and Charms was usually not his best subject anyway. He made no progress; not even a dim strand of silver poked out of his wand.

His father was still nervous about the trip to King's Cross, knowing that their owls and rucksacks would be a dead giveaway that they were wizards—and not just any wizard family. Albus could tell he was also thinking about the wizard who was shot on the day they returned.

In the end, Harry decided to invite Killian Aubrey and Lynwood Chinch, two fellow Aurors, to ensure their safety as they trekked through King's Cross station. So many people from the Ministry were escorting them everywhere they went now. Albus was having quite a difficult time remembering who everyone was. These two were readily recognizable, though, much like the trio of Slade, Auchland, and Tulta. Chinch and Aubrey both brandished double wands. Chinch was older than Harry, had beady insect-like eyes, and seemed to be perpetually hunched over and twitchy; Aubrey was young, handsome, confident, calm, and remarkably congenial. As they arrived at King's Cross and disembarked from the Ministry car, Lily actually asked to hold his hand while they approached the station, and she was usually suspicious of strangers.

The station was much busier than usual. Gimmick scurried around nervously in his little carrier. It seemed as if many Muggles were just here to watch young wizards go off to school, but given what happened at the station at the end of last year, the wizards were a lot more tense about being around Muggles. It was easy to see that the tension in wizards' faces was then transferred to Muggles, who felt that they'd be attacked if they got too close, and there was a large empty area around the barrier between platforms nine and ten so that nobody would be mistaken as a potential attacker.

They were almost at the barrier, Albus and Aubrey leading the group, when there were two extremely loud cracks behind Albus. He whirled around, picturing in his mind another spray of blood on the wall, but this time it might be his father's, and it felt like someone punched him directly in the heart—

But there was no blood on the walls this time. Instead, he saw a Muggle teenager floating in the air above Chinch. A couple of other teenagers were nearby, snapping continuous pictures on their phones and ignoring the fact that everyone else around them had backed away at a running pace.

"Straight to Reddit!" shouted one of the teens. "Straight to Reddit! Oh my God, straight to Reddit when I get home, but no one's gonna believe this!"

"What did you think you were doing?" snarled Chinch, one of his wands directed at the floating boy, the other pointing at the two teenagers with the phones. "You think you can run at a wizard and grab him physically and expect that no one is going to have a problem with it?"

The crowd had gone completely silent around them.

"Lyn, calm down," said Harry. "First off, when you say something like that, don't say 'wizard.' Say that _no one_, including Muggles, want to be grabbed unexpectedly. The way you said it made it sound like Muggles can't touch wizards, which I promise," he continued, raising his voice to address the crowd, "is not the message we intended to send. We are just nervous for our safety, given the incident here several months ago."

Harry turned to the floating boy next. "Lyn, let him down," he said. "I'm sure he didn't mean any harm, he's just an idiot. What were you trying to do, kid?"

"Pictures with Harry Potter," the teen croaked.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yep, that's what I thought. Lyn, I said _let him down_."

Chinch shook his head no, and started whipping his wand back and forth. A phone, a wallet, and a set of keys extricated themselves from the boy's pockets: Lyn was searching him.

"LET HIM DOWN RIGHT NOW!" Harry roared in a louder voice than Albus had ever heard from him, including when he was yelling at James. Chinch recoiled for a moment, then leaned close to Harry.

"You asked me to come here to protect you," he said. "I have the right to search whomever I deem to be a threat, if it's for the sake of your protection. Unless you'd like to go the same way as Algam Pierce?"

"Let the boy down," snarled Harry. "I asked you to come here to protect my family, so I have the right to tell you whom you can and cannot search."

Chinch twitched, but he nodded. Then he slashed his wand around in a wide half-circle, and threw the teenager bodily across the station.

He halted before hitting anything, due to an insanely fast reaction from Aubrey. The young Auror cast a silent Hovering Charm before Albus even registered that he'd taken his wands out, and the boy's frightened face stared at the wall (which was inches from his nose).

Harry stood for a moment in shock, and then grabbed Chinch's collar and pulled him so close that they were nose-to-nose.

"Get the hell out of here," he hissed. "Get away from my family. Get away from these people. Leave."

Chinch pulled himself out of Harry's grip and strode towards a door out of the station, Disapparating the moment he exited.

"Why do you invite him?" asked Aubrey, shaking his head. "You know he's a god-awful Auror and a worse companion."

"He's a fine Auror," retorted Harry, resuming their walk so that people would understand that the situation was over. "One of the best. He's just… an overly suspicious man. He's like Alastor Moody, except with even less self-control."

"And he's not a likeable person in any sense," added Aubrey.

"Stop slandering him behind his back or I'm going to make you leave, too," said Harry under his breath.

"You have to admit he's a terrible person."

"I said stop," growled Harry.

Albus had liked both Chinch and Aubrey before this, but now he didn't like either of them. He couldn't wait to get to the platform.

As they reached the barrier, there was a sudden multitude of flashes; Aubrey jumped, expecting an ambush, and whipped out both of his wands, as Harry rapidly extracted his. But it was just the press, snapping pictures and running over to them with microphones. Casting a Shield Charm between the press and his family, Harry grumbled as he placed hands behind his kids' backs and directed them through the barrier.

It was an enormous relief to Albus when he saw the gigantic scarlet steam engine which was so familiar to him. There was just too much going on right now in the Muggle world. He couldn't wait to get back to the safety of Hogwarts and let the dust settle.

"Ah, good, we found them right away," sighed Harry in relief. "Ron! Hermione!"

Albus perked up to see Rose bounding towards him. Hugo looked annoyed, in the same way that Lily looked annoyed that she couldn't go to Hogwarts until next year. They hugged, and then stood and remained annoyed together.

Rose nudged him. "I saw _Holly_," she said, grinning. "She's already here. You should go say hi!"

"Who's Holly?" asked Harry.

"Friend," blurted Albus quickly. When his father turned, he shot a glare at Rose. He noticed that James was paying careful attention to his reactions, which was not at all a good sign. He hoped that Holly would never meet James.

The train was about to leave—a lot of time had been wasted by dealing with Muggles in the station. The three cousins climbed up into the train and waved goodbye to their parents again. Albus hoped that his return for Christmas would not be similar to last year's trip, or to anything that happened on the journey here.

His usual compartment was already settled with his usual friends, and his usual seat was left for him. He sat down and greeted all of last year's friends: Aidan, Alec, Eftan, Sylvester Alamandrine and his pet snake Razka, Jonah Baxter-Thornton, Toby Adonax, and Parker Pullman.

The first person to talk was Parker, which was a surprise because he was usually quiet; he listened much more than he spoke.

"So… how are everyone's houses doing?"

Toby looked confused. "What do you mean?"

"I mean… some people I know were required to move out of their homes, because the Muggles in their neighborhood didn't feel comfortable living near them."

"Whoa," said Alec. "No, I don't know anybody who had that happen to them."

"I did," said Jonah, smirking. "One family. My cousin's friends. They refused to leave, though. Said the Muggles had no right to force them out. Nobody tried to make them leave, of course, they're still there. The police don't want to threaten them."

"That seems… aggressive," said Parker.

"Well, they really don't have a right to force wizards out of their homes," said Eftan. "If some people don't feel comfortable because they're idiots… It doesn't mean that wizards should have to pay the price."

"Our resident Slytherin expert," quipped Alec.

"He's right, though, and that was the core of the arguments against the global revelation," noted Aidan. "The fact that wizards would have to pay a steep price. It's not getting burned at the stake anymore, but there are still consequences."

"Our resident political analyst," said Alec, rolling his eyes.

"Shut up, Alec," said Sylvester tiredly.

"Our resident git."

"My fist's gonna be resident in your face if you don't quit that," warned Toby.

"How about the whole werewolf thing?" asked Parker.

The compartment was now all staring at Parker. (He wasn't staring back.)

"Didn't you guys hear?" he asked. "The whole werewolf controversy… It's just like how werewolves were treated in our parents' generation. Muggles don't like the thought of being near werewolves. In general, I mean. There are some crazy Muggles who are begging to be bitten so that they can become werewolves, I heard."

"What?" laughed Jonah. "That's insane."

"But most of the Muggles don't want to live near werewolves," continued Parker. "They think it's dangerous. They want at least a notification of the names of all werewolves so that they know to evacuate during a full moon if they live near one, or something like that."

"Werewolves aren't dangerous," said Aidan, looking rather irritated. "The Ministry pays for the Wolfsbane potion now, so they keep their minds during the full moon, don't they?"

"Yeah, but accidents are probably more likely for werewolves in general," said Albus, thinking about his father's story about the events that happened during his third year.

Albus sank into recollections of his father's stories. What had the famous Harry Potter achieved in his first year at Hogwarts?

Saving the Sorcerer's Stone. Determinedly delaying Voldemort's rise to power.

What had Albus achieved?

Finding the mulunctapol? That was something that anyone with eyes could have done if they were in the right place at the right time. Breaking into a few minds? That was completely by accident. Why was none of this as cool as his father's stories? Why couldn't the current world be as interesting?

Adventure was out there, he was certain… He just had to find it.

He was very surprised that this mindset had entered his thoughts. Since when did he go looking for trouble? That was James's job. No, he was not destined to go seeking out supervillains. Harry had already done that, two decades ago.

"_You're more like your father, aren't you? Difficult… and I sense the same thirst…"_

The words of the Sorting Hat last year pervaded his brain; he was surprised to discover how well he remembered them.

"_Your father had a thirst to prove himself too. He walked into the world of magic to find himself famous, and, no matter how hard he might deny it, he always had an underlying urge to prove himself, show everyone that he wasn't just a famous name, make himself known for something that he had control over."_

If he wanted to seek out glory just as a means to an end, to get as famous as his father, then he should have been put in Slytherin. He pushed those thoughts of glory out of his head. He didn't want to be a… a _slithery Gryffindor_.

He laughed to himself at this phrase he invented, and promised himself not to be the first to identify as such.

They talked a little more about politics; Albus didn't find it as boring as he used to, but he was starting to agree more and more with Riley's analysis of politics—no matter how much two people argued over a point, no matter how much evidence was produced for either side, no one was ever "right;" at least, not in the sense of marking the correct answer on a multiple-choice test. This conversation carried them all the way to the end of the journey, and newly dressed in their Hogwarts robes, they disembarked the train.

"Oh, we get to take the carriages this time," said Alec, bouncing up and down on his heels. "Which carriage are we t—never mind, I see Mia!"

He bounded over towards her without a glance back.

Parker, Jonah, Sylvester, and Toby took a carriage. Albus noticed several of the Slytherins in his year shooting dirty looks at Sylvester, as if annoyed that he was fraternizing with the enemy—he was in a carriage with three Gryffindors.

Albus, Aidan and Eftan were about to climb into a carriage when they noticed James staring at one of the carriages with a slack jaw.

Albus walked up to his brother and tapped him on the shoulder. "What are you staring at?" he asked.

"Thestrals," said James, continuing to gawk. "Holy… Holy… They are _weird_."

"Thestrals?" asked Albus, surprised. He looked around, but didn't see anything; he remembered they were only visible to those who had seen death. "Who did you see—"

Then his mind jumped back in time, to when he was standing in King's Cross station near the Pierce family. Harry had pulled out his wand and covered Albus's eyes. Ginny had pulled out her wand and covered Lily's eyes. There had been no other hands to cover James's eyes. James must have seen…

"Mr. Pierce?" asked Albus quietly.

James nodded numbly. He walked slowly up to the front of the carriage, and gingerly raised a hand to touch something that Albus couldn't see.

"Into the carriages, hurry up now!" shouted a voice that Albus didn't recognize. He looked up to see a blond woman who looked to be in about her fifties, chivvying the lagging students into the carriages. She was patting the air near the carriages, and James was watching keenly.

"Please enter your carriage now, James," said the woman, approaching them.

James was still staring at the thestral. The professor watched his line of vision for a moment, and then she nodded knowingly. "Ah. First time seeing thestrals?"

James flickered his eyes over towards her and nodded.

"That's good that you can see them, I suppose," she said. "It means you've come to terms with the death already." She paused. "Staring at them for too long can force you to relive the death in your dreams the next night, so I suggest that you don't do that. Into the carriages with you, we'd like to get there before the first years…"

It started to lightly rain, which seemed to snap James out of his trance. He nodded and darted off to where Barry Dunbar was gesturing him over.

Albus, Aidan, and Eftan climbed into a separate carriage. There was no one else left, so the carriages began to move.

"Who was that woman?" asked Eftan.

"Professor of Ancient Runes, I think," said Aidan. "I don't know her name, exactly. I hear she knows more languages than Dumbledore knew."

"That's impressive," noted Albus as the carriages jerked and began to roll forward. He glanced out the window at the others and tried to imagine the invisible creatures which were pulling them; it was very difficult, since he'd never seen a picture of a thestral before. He'd have to remember to look up a picture of the creature in _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ or some other book. Or he could just watch someone die, but that prospect sounded rather unpleasant.

"I can't wait," said Eftan, staring up at the castle looming in the distance. "We're not the lowest rung on the ladder anymore. We're second years now!"

"I wonder if we'll think that the first years are scrawny," said Aidan thoughtfully.

"Probably. It's like a requirement."

Albus glanced in the general direction of the Forbidden Forest. He wondered if there had been any expeditions conducted in the forest since they were last here, and if anything had been found. He was struck by an overwhelming urge to know as much as possible about everything; he wondered if he was on good enough terms with Wilcox to be told more. After all, he'd found the mulunctapol, hadn't he? It had been him risking his magic to feed it the sleeping potion.

But he couldn't help think that he was stretching his accomplishments for the purpose of pretending that his first year had been almost exactly like every other Hogwarts student's first year.

_A thirst to prove yourself…_

He shook his head to clear the thoughts, tuned in to Eftan and Aidan's conversation about brooms, and thought about the upcoming Sorting, recalling his fears about the ceremony just a short year ago.

O

It was rather boring, waiting for the Sorting to take place. There was too much chatter all around, and the volume of the room was making Albus's head hurt. He was hungry, but he knew he'd have to sit through two rounds of Sorting—one for the mentoring program. He hoped it wouldn't take as long as last year.

Finally, the nervous-looking first years (who indeed looked somewhat scrawny, Albus supposed) walked into the hall, hunching, trying to retract their heads into their necks, and looking altogether petrified. Albus couldn't help but smile, knowing what they were going through.

"You're Albus Potter, aren't you!"

The comment came from the other side of the crowd of first years; the scrawniest boy in the batch skittered up to Albus and bounced on his toes excitedly.

"I know you from your picture," he said. "My dad went to school with your dad! My uncle died fighting Voldemort, did you know? I'm Colin, Colin Creevey, I was named after my dead uncle. He died!"

Albus had no idea how to respond. "Er. That's—that's interesting."

"See you around!" said the tiny mousy-haired boy, running back to the general location he'd left.

"Why does he have a picture of you?" snorted Riley. "Does he keep it under his pillow?"

"Holly's got some competition," laughed Eben.

"And how did he spot you through the crowd?" asked Kolby. "That was kind of creepy."

"They're really quite tiny," said Scott, looking around the group.

"They're only a year behind us," said Exo, looking rather insulted—but then again, Exo was tinier than most of the first years, so he probably had a right to be insulted by that comment.

Professor Longbottom began the Sorting quickly, for which Albus was grateful. He placed the hat on the stool and waited, and then after a moment's anticipation, during which the older students waited with bated breath and the younger students trembled, wondering if something should be happening, the Sorting Hat's brim split open wide and it began to sing.

_Old faces looking bored and hungry,_

_New ones looking tense…_

_Welcome, faces, old and new,_

_And let the year commence._

_It's not a question of your worth,_

_For every kid has that._

_It's a suggestion of your strengths_

_By good old Sorting Hat!_

_Sorting started with the founders,_

_Each chose those like them._

_But this is not a path to which_

_We must, for all, condemn._

_We sort you since it's easier_

_And funner in the run._

_You should still always be yourself._

_(Just don't be everyone!)_

_So if you're in with Ravenclaws,_

_We don't want you to look_

_Upon this as a mandate that_

_You read through every book._

_Getting sorted into Slytherin_

_Does not say, "Think like him,"_

_For though his House is cunning_

_His tolerance was rather slim._

_Being put with Hufflepuffs_

_Does not mean there is no perk._

_You're all hard-workers: work to find_

_A balance of fun and work._

_And if you're with the Gryffindors,_

_You're brave in your own way—_

_There is no need to risk your life_

_On each and every day!_

_So think of this when Sorted:_

_There will never be a need_

_For you to act exactly like_

_The Founder I've decreed._

_For being yourself, be comfortable,_

_And for stereotypes, embrace;_

_We want at least that you're safe here._

_The world's a dangerous place._

The last line was sung by the hat so ominously that the applause following his song was short-lived and tense.

"It's not the most ominous song he's made," said Nearly Headless Nick, floating over. "It was just the last line… You should have seen the one when Snape was Headmaster, when the Carrows were here. It was all about knowing your place for your own safety, but only until you all saw the right time to strike… It was a masterpiece."

"When I call you up, please sit on the stool and place the Sorting Hat over your head, and you will be sorted," said Professor Longbottom, unrolling his long strip of parchment. "Ackerley, Reuben!"

Alec leaned over from the Ravenclaw table. "A Knut it's Ravenclaw."

"A Knut it's Gryffindor," challenged Albus.

The boy up in the front looked like he had never done anything more terrifying in his life than placing this hat on his head. He picked up the Sorting Hat with the very tips of his fingers, apparently in case it might bite him, and it spun around upside-down, but he didn't want to grab it forcibly to turn it over, and he kept trying unsuccessfully to turn it around. Eventually Professor Longbottom got fed up and went to assist him.

"I take it back, I call Hufflepuff," said Alec.

"No, still Gryffindor," insisted Albus.

"GRYFFINDOR!" shouted the hat once it had been properly aligned with the boy's head.

Albus pumped a fist. Alec grimaced and dug a Knut from his pocket.

"Next one's a Ravenclaw," said Alec confidently. "Another Knut."

"Two Knuts," said Albus. "For Gryffindor. If it's Hufflepuff or Slytherin we don't count it."

"I'll take you up on it," responded Alec. "But you'd better get your Knuts ready."

A third year down the table snorted in laughter at this comment, which confused Albus, but he didn't dwell on it.

"Augabond, Buster" had been called up, and after about a minute of contemplation, the hat placed him in Gryffindor, too, and Albus received another two Knuts in his winnings.

"Three for Gryffindor again," pressed Albus. "Three Knuts. Come on, are you chicken?"

"You know what, sure," said Alec, narrowing his eyes. "The hat's not gonna place three people in Gryffindor in a row right away. I'm getting back all those coins."

"Ayer, Doreen!"

"That sounds like a Ravenclaw name," said Alec, nodding.

But after a few moments of silence, the hat again shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"

The Gryffindor table was beside itself with cheers. Alec was beside himself with irritation, but reluctantly dug out the coins.

"You were mind-reading, weren't you," he grumbled.

"I was not," said Albus defensively. "If I was mind-reading, I would have made bets in Galleons."

"Any new staff this year?" asked Alec, glancing up and down the rows. "I don't think so."

"Me neither," said Albus as the first Ravenclaw walked over, and then another Gryffindor.

A few more B's and C's walked up, some of them with some hilarious names (like Bennett Cottonbelt), some of them siblings of students in Albus's year (like Vika Bell). And then after "Crane, Bowen," as Albus suspected, there was "Creevey, Colin," the creepy little boy from a few minutes back.

Professor Longbottom gestured him to the stool. He first accidentally knocked the hat to the ground, and then picking it up, knocked the stool slightly off-center and evidently felt that he had to move it back exactly where it was.

"GRYFFINDOR!" proclaimed the hat once it was finally placed on his head (it slipped down so far that it covered his nose).

There were more names; there were way too many first years. Were there this many in his class without even having gotten through the F's yet? He was mostly zoning out, as he did in the end of last year's Sorting, but his attention was caught by one name in particular.

"Finch-Fletchley, Aaron!"

"Hey, that's Aidan's brother!" said Alec as Albus looked up. "Er, half-brother. All of his brothers are half-brothers, right?"

Indeed, they didn't look related at all. Aidan's skin was a fairly dark color, but this boy was very pale and had a much smaller nose and much smaller ears. They didn't bear much resemblance at all. Albus wondered if the boy would still be in Hufflepuff with his brother, or if they were so different that they'd be in different houses.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" announced the hat, and the Hufflepuff table cheered. Albus glanced around it and saw, for the first time, no Euan Yodelhop among their ranks; he had graduated. Gryffindor probably had a much better chance for the House Cup this year as a result. Hufflepuff had its run, but now it was time for the best House to rise back to the top again.

He wondered if he'd be able to try out for the Quidditch reserve team this year.

He wondered if James might get injured or banned at some time, and if he might be able to play in James's place…

The Sorting was terrifying for a first year, and obnoxiously boring for everyone else. He understood now why people were so disinterested during his class's Sorting ceremony—there was nothing to do while you watched. The only interesting parts of the ceremony were the hat's song and watching the Sorting of people he knew… but there was only one person that he had even ever seen before, not including Colin.

"Glissendale, Chester!"

"I didn't know Holly had a brother," said Alec, looking up. A small boy was walking towards the stool; he had red hair that could have given Weasley hair a run for its money, and he was positively miniscule (then again, so was Holly).

"RAVENCLAW!" shouted the hat; Holly stood up and cheered the loudest.

Albus glanced over at her. He wondered when they'd hang out again, if they did hang out again. The thought of the possibility of _not_ hanging out with her again was making him nervous.

The spread of last names was fairly even all around the alphabet, as opposed to Albus's year which was overflowing with A's. After "Zambicki, Zinnia," the first round of Sorting was concluded.

"You may remain in your seats," announced Professor Longbottom. "I will read out the names of each first year once more, and the Sorting Hat will announce the mentor with whom he is going to pair you. Would the mentors and mentees please stand up when your name is called so that we can identify you? Thank you. We will begin again now, but this time we will be going by last name within Houses, starting with Gryffindor. Ackerley, Reuben!"

"MARCO MURRAY!" bellowed the hat immediately.

"Augabond, Buster!"

"GAVIN THOREAU!"

Albus knew Gavin and Marco; they were two of James's friends, which meant that he pitied the first years who had to deal with these pranksters. But—that meant—he'd forgotten! James was going to be paired with a first year this year. Who was the unlucky fellow?

"Ayer, Doreen!"

"JADE ANDERSEN!"

Albus didn't know Riley had a sister. He wondered how many other of his classmates had siblings in other years.

"Barrow, Benjamin!"

"FINLAY KNAPP!"

"Bell, Vika!"

"MONICA MADDEN!"

"Crane, Bowen!"

"AUGUSTUS LONGBOTTOM!"

"Creevey, Colin!"

_Please be James,_ Albus thought, laughing to himself. _Please be James. He'd be even worse creeped out than I was._

"JAMES POTTER!"

Albus smothered his laughter during the polite applause that followed. Colin stood up, took one look at James, and nearly fainted. James looked a little unsettled by this.

"Croft, Casey!"

"LUCY WEASLEY!"

"Finnigan, Rory!"

"BARRY DUNBAR!"

That marked the end of the names that Albus knew, really, and he was bored again for the rest of the ceremony. He was relieved when Wilcox stood and addressed the hall.

"I have two announcements," he said. "One is that the announcements will take place after the feast. The other is, let the feast begin!"

Albus graciously attacked everything that appeared in front of him. He might have held a conversation if there wasn't food in his mouth at every given opportunity. He didn't even feel like talking after he'd finished; he just leaned back in his chair contentedly and enjoyed the ceiling, enchanted to look like the night sky. The moon was out; it was about half full.

"All right, everyone," said Wilcox once most of the food had disappeared. "Time to make some announcements. First off, congratulations to our new Head Boy and Girl, Dyson Stenet and Casey Cachwin. Now, I have some extremely big news for you all!

"Next year, as you know, is a year of another Quidditch World Cup. But did you know that we've decided to revive another competition, right inside the schools of Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang?"

The hall was totally silent. The older students looked like they knew what he was getting at, and they seemed incredulous.

"That's right," said Wilcox. "After much debate, and the decision for maximum security during the events… we have again revived the Triwizard Tournament. It will take place next year at Beauxbatons Academy of Magic."

The Triwizard Tournament? Albus understood why the older students were incredulous. Hadn't someone died the last time there was this tournament?

"The tasks, in and of themselves, will not be deadly," said Professor Wilcox. "But they will still be extremely dangerous. Those of you who are currently sixteen or older, or will be so by Halloween… You will be eligible for the tournament. Consider it."

There was utter silence.

"Also, after much evaluation of the effectiveness, we've decided that the midyear exams will _not_ take place this year, or in any subsequent years—"

There was thunderous applause to this statement, and Wilcox laughed. "Yes, yes, I know, you all hated them. That was really the deciding factor in why I didn't keep them.

"Now, listen to me, all of you."

His tone suddenly became much more serious, and the Great Hall quieted in response.

"The Sorting Hat was right," said Wilcox. "The world is a dangerous place at the moment. We won't pretend to hide this from you. But there's something that I want you all to know, to be confident in your knowledge. You are safe here."

He looked around at all the eyes upon him. "I promise you this," he continued. "I promise, that no matter what occurs in the world outside… no matter what you hear… do not be afraid for yourselves. Remember that while there is a breath left in the body of any teacher in this school, we will let nothing endanger this castle. Remember my promise. You are safe here."

He nodded. "Now go get safe in your beds. We look forward to a year of splendid work from all of you. Have a good night."

The students lifted up from their chairs and ambled towards the prefects, who were giving the Fat Lady's password to the members of their house. It was odd—Wilcox had intended his speech to emphasize that nothing could happen to the students while they were safe at Hogwarts, but there was something foreboding about the implications of that speech for the rest of the world. Was everyone else unsafe?


	3. Quidditch Tryouts

_**I think I confused some people! Sorry if I did. Hopefully clearing it up now if so.**_

_**Wilcox's speech talked about the Triwizard Tournament. He said that the Triwizard Tournament is being held next year. It's not being held in this book; it's being held in the next book. So, anyone who's sixteen this year will be seventeen next year. The age requirement hasn't been changed.**_

_**Another thing-this isn't just to put Albus or any of his friends in the tournament four years later in the seventh book. The Triwizard Tournament is important for different reasons. Albus will not see anyone he knows competing, but he will get to see Beauxbatons and meet some people there.**_

_**Hope this clears up anything that was ambiguous. If you're confused about something else, write it in the reviews or message me about it. If you don't understand something, there's probably someone else who has the same issue, and I'd like to know about those things so I can addess them here!**_

_**Anyway, enjoy! Next chapter we dive into some events that I'm going to love writing, so the pace may pick up a lot and I'll consider double uploads.**_

* * *

CHAPTER THREE

QUIDDITCH TRYOUTS

O

"Albus!" said Professor Desulgon happily as he waltzed into the classroom.

Albus waved hello happily; he was very glad to have Transfiguration first on Mondays. It made getting up in the morning very easy.

"How's our top Gryffindor guy?" he said, winking as he passed.

Albus flushed with pride, and smiled widely. Then he looked around and was startled to see that Rose was looking appalled, a look which quickly morphed into an absolute death glare.

Albus had never seen his cousin give him that look. What in the world had warranted that?

Professor Desulgon strode up to the front of the class. "Welcome back, everyone!" he said loudly. "I'm glad to say I'll be staying in the post of Transfiguration for a while. Something about very positive influences on O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. grades. I hope to stay here for a while as I also conduct research on the side into Diwandology.

"Speaking of Diwandology, has anyone heard of the new Alternative Routes to Magic program?"

Most of the class tilted their heads inquisitively. Exo, however, nodded.

"You'll hear about it pretty soon," said Professor Desulgon cryptically. "About the same time when you're registering for classes, I expect."

Professor Desulgon then started class by making them repeat their final exam tasks. He asked them to recall how easy it was for them at the end of last year, and then pointed out how badly most of them were struggling. Albus couldn't pretend he could still do these tasks perfectly—not after several months of being unable to use magic outside of his room at night; even then, he avoided it, because his father had gotten extremely serious about not doing magic in the house after the global revelation, and he didn't want his father to find out that he was still practicing. As a result, his Transfiguration was at its worst since before the midyear exams; Professor Desulgon wasn't impressed with how much they all seemed to have forgotten.

Rose, however, was flawless as usual, and when Professor Desulgon gave her a flattering tribute for her inspiring ability, she gave a smug smirk to Albus and then turned her back to him. He was utterly baffled by this behavior.

At least he didn't have Charms until tomorrow. If he was this bad in his _favorite_ spell-casting subject, he hated to think how Charms would go if he did so poorly on the final test last year. He made a note to try and practice some charms before tomorrow's class, and then he stepped out for the break before History of Magic—thankfully, he no longer had it in the mornings, so he was much less likely to fall asleep in the class.

"You going to any of the optionals?" asked Alec, catching up to Albus.

Albus looked around for Holly, but she'd seen a different friend first. "I don't know. You?"

Alec laughed. "Extra classes? Are you kidding?"

They took the turn towards the Gryffindor common room.

"I don't know, they both sound pretty interesting," said Albus. "And we're not getting tested or graded; it's just for educational enrichment."

"My education is greatly enriched by extra sleep," said Alec. "Like I'm really going to go to an optional class on a Friday morning!"

"It's Quidditch studies, it sounds like it could be fun to go," said Albus, shrugging.

"Educational enrichment is fun?" asked Alec sarcastically. "Our resident nerd… No, wait, that's still Aidan…"

"What about 'Current Events?'" asked Albus. "Come on, you have to be interested in what's going on in the world!"

"That's a trap for people who can't recognize that it's more History of Magic classes," countered Alec. "And it's right after my last class on Friday. Heck no, I want to sleep. They give us only two mandatory classes on Fridays, and they want me to go to double that number? Not likely, I'm telling you."

"But current events isn't history," argued Albus. "It's now."

"And now is the perfect time to not go to extra classes, and spend that time _enjoying myself,_" said Alec. "I should head over to Ravenclaw Tower now—see you, Al."

"See you," said Albus, watching his friend go.

He walked up to the portrait of the Fat Lady. "_Porcus alatus,_" he said.

"Indeed," she responded, and the portrait swung forward.

He was one of the first ones back; then again, the classroom was close and he walked fast. During this break, there were always several sixth and seventh years, and first and second years were abundant, but rarely were there many third, fourth, or fifth years. Albus wondered if he was going to lose this break between classes in order to get a tighter schedule next year; he didn't look forward to it.

Soon—around Easter—he'd be choosing his classes for his third year, and this would determine the rest of his career in the magical world. At least he'd have his mentor Gil to help him make those decisions—that was one of the things for which mentors were going to be extremely important, Wilcox had said. Still, though, it was a daunting task. How was he supposed to set his life goals already? He was only twelve. Obviously, the core classes were the most important and those didn't change, but if there were any electives that he didn't take, that fact would immediately preclude him from certain jobs. And what was this Alternative Routes to Magic program at which Professor Desulgon had been hinting?

There wasn't much to do between the first and second classes on the first day back, so he just played Wizard's Chess with Scott, whose company he enjoyed significantly more than Scott's best friend, Riley. Riley seemed much the same as last year, abrasive and unrestrained.

"You're really good," said Scott as Albus moved in to checkmate the king.

"My Uncle Ron plays a lot with me," said Albus. "He said that a lot of wizards haven't got an ounce of logic, and that it's important."

"I don't really feel like going to History of Magic today," said Riley, walking over and yawning.

"Point in case," said Scott, glancing up at him.

"Huh?" mumbled Riley sleepily.

"How are you managing to be exhausted?" asked Scott, amazed. "You've only gone to one class so far."

Riley complained about attending classes as they left, all the way down to the History of Magic classroom. He took a seat near the back and continued all the way until Professor Binns. He was starting to remind Albus of Alec's attitude about classes. Litinia, the lovely portrait in the History of Magic classroom, rolled her eyes and sighed heavily in her frame; Albus laughed, but then grew to agree more and more with Riley in this particular case as Professor Binns droned on and he started to recall exactly how boring the ghost professor was. It was a boredom that penetrated the soul.

As they left, Alec walked over to Albus, yawning, and started to complain about Binns. He complained all the way to the Great Hall before they went their separate ways for lunch.

"Have you noticed," muttered Scott as he sat down next to Albus, "that Riley and Alec are, like, exactly the same person?"

"What?" asked Albus, glancing over to Alec. "No, they're…"

"Give me a noticeable difference," laughed Scott. "They even _look_ similar."

Albus's head was spinning. He really couldn't find much of a difference. They had exactly the same attitudes towards work, made very similar jokes about people they didn't like, and were altogether wild kids. Why, then, was he such good friends with Alec and not with Riley? Why couldn't he stand Riley?

Albus began to think about ways that Alec had broken that image he'd constructed for himself, but then he realized that he was only exposed to this side of Alec because he knew the Ravenclaw so well. What if Riley was the same—a generally good, congenial guy underneath—and Albus just couldn't stand his company because he didn't get to know Riley as well as he'd gotten to be friends with Alec?

He resolved to give Riley more of a chance from now on.

"I still say Exo's a werewolf," muttered Riley, sitting down next to them.

Albus rolled his eyes and completely scrapped the results of his previous mental debate.

"We've seen him during the full moon, Riley," Scott sighed. "We've been over this."

Riley snapped his fingers like he knew his friend was going to respond that way.

"He's got a twin," Riley guessed.

Scott groaned in exasperation and thumped his head against his plate.

Down the Gryffindor table, there was a loud SPLAT as some sort of tart splattered all over a fourth year girl; looking down, Albus realized that it was Lucy.

"UNENDING VENGEANCE!" bellowed James as he dashed from the hall.

"ARE YOU STILL ON ABOUT THE EFFING UNENDING VENGEANCE?" screeched Lucy as she leapt from the table with superb agility, sprinting him down with her wand at the ready.

Albus glanced down the Ravenclaw table and saw Holly talking with Gad Frasier, one of the Ravenclaw boys in their year. He knew she was _allowed_ to talk to anyone she wanted, but he still felt a little… gloomy when it wasn't him.

"Hi, Albus!" said Dominique, striding past. She had, as Albus heard, received the honor of being Quidditch Captain this year, her last year with the team.

"Hi, Dominique."

"Are you trying out for Quidditch this year?" she asked immediately, all business.

Albus grinned widely. "Of course!"

"What position?" asked Dominique. "You're smaller than James, but I don't know if you're better, he's gotten fantastic… If you tried really hard for a Chaser position, you might get it, though, the Lidwipps aren't _that_ great…"

"No, I just want to be a reserve Seeker," said Albus.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive," said Albus. He didn't really want to be out there deciding matches for Gryffindor… not yet, anyway.

"Well, I guess we could use a great reserve Seeker," admitted Dominique. "James is certainly prone to doing something stupid and getting himself hurt or banned. So, I'll see you a week from Friday?"

"If that's when tryouts are, of course," said Albus.

"Great. See you then!"

"Sweet, Albus, you're going to be on the Quidditch team?" asked Scott.

"I think so," said Albus. "How many reserve players is each team allowed?"

"Two for each position," said Riley. "So twelve total."

"Fourteen," said Scott, arching an eyebrow.

"So I only have to be third best Seeker," said Albus excitedly. "That shouldn't be too hard."

"Not for a Potter," said Scott.

Albus liked this label now—it was a challenge every time.

O

Albus quickly took up the school routine again, excelling in his classes yet again. Even Charms wasn't really beyond his reach. He couldn't wait until next year, when his challenges would increase dramatically with the addition of third-year electives. His choice was no longer ambiguous—he'd be going for everything. He wanted twelve O.W.L.s.

When he mentioned this to Gil in their first mentor meeting of the year, Gil looked impressed but concerned.

"That many classes is a huge workload," said Gil. "I heard that they used to not be able to even accommodate that many classes at a time in the schedule. I think it was McGonagall who fixed that; she wanted to make sure that everybody who had the opportunity to take twelve courses could do so." He scratched his head. "Although… people had taken twelve courses prior to McGonagall's rearrangement of the schedule… I wonder how they had time for that?"

"Do you know anything about the Alternative Routes to Magic program?" asked Albus.

"The what?" asked Gil. "No, can't say I have."

"Professor Desulgon hasn't mentioned it to you?"

"No, he hasn't," confirmed Gil. "We've had three classes with him in three days and he hasn't said anything about a new program."

Albus frowned; he was hoping to get cleared up on that. Was that something that he might do which would affect his schedule?

"Not at all," said Professor Desulgon when he asked. "No, that program would be separate from the class schedule, even. But I won't give away too much, so don't ask me about it again!"

Albus also enjoyed attending his optional classes. Aidan and Eftan were there for the first two, but Alec, of course, was not.

Madam Duopold taught Quidditch studies. She was a hilarious professor, and focused on most of the funniest facts in Quidditch history. Albus could now tell anyone who invented the Snitch and why, or why the sport was named "Quidditch." Madam Duopold had also promised that next week, they would be talking about some variants of the game, off of which Quidditch had been based.

The other optional Friday class was Current Events, which was taught by the Ancient Runes teacher, Professor Glinrow. She was like an encyclopedia on the magical world; Albus suspected she'd have gotten the History of Magic position if it wasn't permanently locked with Binns.

"Some of your friends may not have attended because they felt like this was extraneous learning," said Professor Glinrow to start the class.

Albus glanced at Aidan and Eftan, who rolled their eyes back at him.

"But there is no such thing as extraneous learning," said Professor Glinrow. "Everything you are is what you've learned. And current events are probably the most directly impactful knowledge you will receive. If you don't believe me… who here has heard anything about something called a 'global revelation?'"

Everybody raised their hands.

"Now raise your hands if you have _not_ been affected by the global revelation," she continued.

Nobody raised their hands.

"It's not just that, of course," said Professor Glinrow. "I'm going to spend our first few meetings talking about more recent magical history, since your History of Magic course will not spend very much time on it. Originally, Professor Wilcox had planned to just have you read your Modern Magical History text and be tested on it, separately from classes, at some point during the second year. But we've decided to instead make a Current Events optional class, and I promise that you won't be tested or anything. If you're upset that your course books list asked you to purchase this textbook and you don't need it anymore, then you can sell it to the school at the same price that you paid, and we'll just keep it in our stores.

"We're going to start with the story of a ruined house, a crying baby, and a banished evil," said Professor Glinrow. "We'll start with the Boy who Lived."

O

More or less, Current Events was a class of hearing his father's anecdotes through different secondhand accounts. He spotted some discrepancies and some things that were left out—for example, something that it had taken until his tenth birthday for his father to explain was the part about Voldemort's Horcruxes. This was not covered in the material; Albus suspected it wasn't an approved topic. He had wondered how Professor Glinrow would talk about Voldemort's downfall if she couldn't explain why he couldn't fall until then; the answer was that she just passed off Voldemort's inability to be killed, saying that nobody had actually _finished_ the job until Harry.

She had progressed from Harry Potter's birth all the way to Voldemort's death in a single class, but promised them that if they wanted to know anything else about the story, she'd be happy to stay after class and talk more about it. Albus, however, wanted to get down to the Quidditch pitch and see how his new broom was on the field; he hadn't done so all week. Besides, he already knew all this from his father.

Next week, though, she told them that they'd be focusing on the story of the Dark Revival and Gallen Ingot, and then on the events leading up to the Global Revelation, which he was very excited to hear. It was the class before Quidditch tryouts began, too, and he was extremely excited about that. He'd have something big to which he could look forward through all of next week.

O

"I haven't seen Exo today," said Scott at dinner on the next Thursday afternoon.

Riley whipped his head around. "What? But it's, like, the new moon."

"For the love of Merlin—!"

"I haven't, either," said Albus. He looked down the Gryffindor table. Exo was nowhere to be found. Albus had noticed that in all of their classes, but he figured that even if Exo was sick or skiving (the latter of which he felt unlikely), he'd at least be at one meal. But he hadn't been at breakfast or lunch, and now he was missing from dinner. And he hadn't been in the common room at all, either.

"I wonder where he is," said Albus as James walked by.

"You're wondering where someone is?" asked James. "Is it Exorian Wilcox? He's been in one of the unused classrooms all day. And I mean all day."

Albus arched an eyebrow. "What? How do you know that?"

"Heard it from four of my good friends," said James, winking.

"Huh?"

James continued walking.

"Hey—what classroom?" asked Albus, running up to James.

James leaned down. "Third floor corridor, the one that hasn't been used since the three-headed dog was there? Third classroom on the left once you're through the door."

"Er. Thanks," said Albus.

"No problem," said James, and he sat down with Barry, Marco, and Gavin.

Albus frowned. He really only saw James when he was around Barry, Marco, and Gavin. The four of them were inseparable. But then who were the "_four_ friends" to whom James had been referring?

"Where did he say Exo was?" asked Riley, looking like he was about to get up.

"Like I'm going to tell you," growled Albus as he gathered up his stuff and left. "And if you follow me, I'll curse your legs off, I'm serious."

Albus trekked off out the Great Hall to the third floor corridor, glancing back over his shoulder every few seconds to make sure that Riley wasn't following him. He was determined to find out this time, once and for all, what was going on with Exo. Why would he have been in an empty classroom the entire day—?

He stopped dead as his brain whirred. How the heck did James know that Exo had been in an empty classroom all day? Did he have _scouts_ or something there? How else would he know? And wasn't that… extremely creepy, if that was the case? Was he heading straight into a prank of his brother's?

But then he remembered: James had just passed by their table when he overheard them asking about where someone was, and he'd guessed the correct person; also, why would he have set up this specific prank somewhere if he hadn't known that Albus was going to be out looking for someone? And there was the outstanding matter that Exo was truly missing, and no one in their year had seen him yet today.

Albus continued on his path, and opened the door leading to the third floor corridor—the door was unlocked, which was a sign that someone had probably been here before him.

He sped as quietly and swiftly as possible to the third classroom on the left. He glanced in through the window. It was as dark as the rest of the corridor, and he couldn't see a thing. Nervous for a reason he didn't really understand, he pushed open the door.

There was a short sniffle before a sharp but soft intake of breath, and Albus suddenly had the feeling that he'd stumbled upon something very private. Exo was in here, probably crying. But Albus had already made his presence known, so… what was he to do?

He backed out, let the door close again, and strode away in the other direction. It was none of his business. Exo obviously wanted to be alone right now. He reached the end of the corridor and pulled the door open, and found himself staring directly into the face of Helio Wilcox.

"Albus?" he asked, looking rather unhappy. "What on Earth were you doing in there?"

"I… er…" Albus couldn't think of anything fast enough.

"Do you know where my son is?" asked Wilcox, leaning over Albus. "Albus, I've been looking for him everywhere. I… I may have upset him. Where is he? Which classroom down that corridor?"

"I was looking for him, too," said Albus, letting his shoulders fall. "I was concerned because I hadn't seen him all day."

"You're a great liar," said Wilcox. "But you certainly know."

"He's in the third classroom on the left," mumbled Albus, casting his gaze to the floor. He didn't want to defy authority any longer. Not when Wilcox could tell he was lying. "Don't tell him I told you. He doesn't know I knew."

"Then how did you know, if he didn't tell you?" asked Wilcox, scratching his head.

"He wants to be alone," said Albus, ignoring the question, still staring at the ground.

Wilcox sighed. "I know he does. But he shouldn't be."

Albus continued not to make eye contact as he swept past Wilcox and went straight for the Gryffindor common room.

He went through the portrait and took a comfy armchair; maybe the older students wouldn't kick him out, now that he wasn't a first year. Some time later, a steady stream of students poured back in. Among them were Riley and Scott, the former of whom went right up to Albus.

"Did you find out where he was?" asked Riley.

"I ran into Professor Wilcox, and I came right up here after that," said Albus. It was the truth, after all; he just left out the part in between which answered Riley's question.

Thankfully, Riley didn't pursue. Albus went to bed that night early, but he couldn't sleep for excitement; tomorrow was Quidditch tryouts. He stayed up while every other Gryffindor boy from his year got into their beds in turn and fell asleep.

About a half hour after everyone but Albus had gotten to sleep, the door opened once more, and the unmistakable form of Exo walked in. Albus sat up in bed and watched him as he approached his bed.

"Exo," whispered Albus.

Exo looked up. Albus's eyes were accustomed to the darkness, and he could see that Exo looked absolutely distraught.

"Er—Exo, are you okay?"

"It's none of your damn business," spat Exo so angrily that several other boys woke up or shifted in their beds.

Albus stared. He had never heard Exo swear before, or sound so angry since that first night he'd disproved that he was a werewolf.

Glancing back up, Exo realized that he was rousing other people, so he just got into his sleepwear and climbed into his bed.

"Hey!" came Riley's voice. "Hey—Exo—where were you today?"

"It's none of your damn business," shot Albus at Riley, surprising even himself—he'd never sworn before, either. For some reason, it felt more emotionally effective.

Exo paused in preparing for bed, but Albus saw a grateful smile tease his lips. Albus promised himself that he wouldn't pry again, but then he remembered a similar promise he'd made the year before. It didn't matter, though—he was trying to make sure Exo was okay. He would always do whatever he thought was best for his friend.

O

Current Events was fascinating that week. They talked about the Dark Revival, and how Gallen Ingot's power was said to exceed Voldemort's, but that he was less of a threat and taken out more quickly because he didn't really know how to be an effective terror. Voldemort was silent and devious; Ingot was straightforward and predictable. He simply killed whomever he pleased with an army that had a path set straight through several areas that were highly populated with Muggles. He was also willing to duel whomever challenged him, which of course led to his downfall at the hands of Adelina Nelson, who unfortunately was also killed. Many good people had died at Ingot's hands, who had stepped up to defend the Muggles from their places of residence. Among them were Aidan's father, and the father of a first year Gryffindor boy this year named Rory Finnigan, who had apparently been a friend of Harry Potter's when he was in school. He'd died before he even knew his wife was pregnant. All wizards who had died this way were commemorated in memorials in the towns that had been destroyed by Ingot; and of course, there was Adelina Nelson Day, which also had a moment of silence for all witches and wizards, and Muggles, who had been killed in the Dark Revival.

Albus still was restless for Quidditch, though, and he didn't hang around after for questions; he went straight to the Quidditch pitch, grabbing his broom, and grinned widely in the wild wind as he charged up to Dominique on the pitch.

"All right, Albus!" said Dominique when she saw him coming. "Excellent, I think everyone who's coming is here now. Listen, Seekers first because I think it's going to take the least amount of time. This is going to be real simple, now. With the assistance of my good friend Adam, fifty golf balls—Golf is a Muggle sport, by the way, everyone, it's rather ridiculous, but I won't describe it right now—fifty golf balls are going to be shot into the air and hover somewhere in the Quidditch pitch. We're going to do this twice. The first time, you get to scan the field for ten seconds before going out there and grabbing as many as possible. The second time, you're going to go at the same time that we send them out. The first run is to test your planning abilities and the second is to test your reaction time. Let's line up, Seekers, and take your marks!"

There were only four people, including Albus and James, who were trying out; apparently, other prospective Seekers felt like they didn't have much of a chance. James winked at his little brother, and then steadied his broom and got ready to take off.

"Ten seconds' planning time for this one," Dominique said as another seventh year, whom Albus recognized as Barry's brother Adam, stepped up beside Dominique and readied his wand.

At the waves of two wands, fifty bright white balls, the approximate size of a Snitch, flew into the air and levitated at evenly spread locations around the field.

"All right, when I blow my whistle," said Dominique. "Ready? Set?"

She blew the whistle hard, and they took off.

The first round was much worse of a loss to James than Albus was expecting. He took eleven, James took twenty-three, a blond third-year got nine, and a bulky sixth year who looked nothing like the stereotypical small Seeker managed to get seven. On the second round, the spread was even worse, but Albus was better in comparison to the others—James got thirty-one, but Albus got thirteen, the third year got four and the sixth year got two. Albus admired James's technique—it wasn't just getting the ball for him, it was also watching the others (including Albus) and seeing which balls they were going for, then boxing them out and grabbing it for himself. James was really a natural Seeker, much more so than his brother. Albus wondered if he'd ever get that good.

"I think the decision's pretty clear," said Dominique as they landed. "James, you get the starting spot; you're definitely miles above everyone else's level, as usual; I don't know how you do it. Albus, you've got talent. Your brother… eclipses it a little bit, but you're going to be great when we need you, and we'll make absolute sure you'll get better. You're our first reserve Seeker."

She walked up to the other two potential Seekers.

"Harlan, you're just not really the Seeker type, I'm sorry to say," she said to the bulky sixth year. "I'm really sorry, but you're more of a Beater build, or a power Chaser. Why don't you consider trying out for that?"

"YOU'LL NEVER UNDERSTAND!" shouted the slightly overweight boy, his arms shaking. "I WAS BORN TO BE A SEEKER! YOU CAN'T TURN ME AWAY JUST BECAUSE I'M NOT SKINNY!"

"No, but I can turn you away because you suck," said Dominique simply.

She turned next to the blond third year boy, who looked elated by his third-place performance.

"Abbott, you're going on second reserve," said Dominique. "You were outplayed today, unfortunately, by two other great Seekers, but I can tell you've got some natural talent."

"How can you tell?" he asked excitedly.

"Because I know that you've never practiced up until this point," said Dominique. "Your brother told my brother. But you didn't _completely_ make an ass of yourself, so you must have _some_ natural talent."

He grinned sheepishly.

"That's it for our Seekers—no, that's _it_, Harlan, get away from me or I'll hex you, and believe me, it'll be hard to miss you."

Albus was too excited to stay for the rest of the tryouts, so he ran excitedly back up to the common room. On the way, he passed Alec; he told his Ravenclaw friend the news, and Alec roared, "Our resident Quidditch star!"

He raced up Gryffindor Tower. "_Porcus alatus!_" he shouted to the Fat Lady, ready to tell all his friends that he'd made first reserve.

But the first thing that he noticed was that, again, Exo was not there.

"I saw Exo screaming at his father again in the halls earlier," said James to Albus quietly, walking in behind him and apparently correctly guessing why Albus was looking around.

"You're so damn creepy," hissed Albus.

James looked very happy at Albus's use of a swear word. "Yeah, anyway, I noticed that they were alone in a corridor again, so I got my cloak and I went up there to find out what they were doing—"

"Wait, how did you _notice_ them if you weren't near them?"

James gave a look that said he wasn't giving away his secrets.

"I found Exo yelling at Helio," continued James. "They were as vague as ever, but I found something that Exo shouted to be very interesting. 'You told her. You never let me tell anyone, you tell me I can't, and then you told her and she told her son and now he's not coming here and now everyone is going to want to find out why and everyone is going to know.' Something like that; I have a photographic memory for what I eavesdrop on, so that's probably accurate. And then his dad goes, 'I had to tell her, it was Ministry business, and I told her that she could never tell anyone else the information,' but then Exo cut him off and shouted something about how obviously she was going to tell everyone. That was the most interesting part, but I wish I'd heard more—"

"It's none of your damn business," barked Albus.

"Don't swear all the time," suggested James. "If you don't typically swear, it's more impactful on the times that you do. Oh, and congratulations on making the reserve team."

"Oh—thanks," said Albus. "Damn thanks," he added, and grinned.

"Very funny, little bro. But don't come shooting up the ranks and take me out!"

James departed for his group of friends.

Albus relaxed with his own group of friends, minus Exo. He sighed and looked at the portrait hole, hoping every time it opened that Exo would come through looking happy; but this never happened. He guessed that even if Exo did come in, he probably wouldn't be looking happy.

Regardless, he felt like he was closing in on exactly what Exo's condition was, or why he was so upset, or both. He didn't want to think he was being nosy, but he did think that it was in Exo's best interest if he had a friend who knew his problems, in whom he could confide, because obviously, he wasn't letting his father do that. But what sort of thing in the world could make Exo not trust his own father?


	4. The Resident Wolf

_**I'm having more fun than ever writing these next few chapters. I'm working so fast and well that there's a good possibility of double uploads in the near future, given the fact that I wrote two and a half chapters in the last week alone. Again, I'll say it here if I do go to double uploads.**_

_**Mostly, I wanted to use this note at the beginning of the chapter to tell you this: If you see something that might be a mistake, please, let me know and I will fix it! Thank you to everyone who's given me suggestions on things that should be fixed, everywhere from using the wrong names to actual plot holes. And thank you SO MUCH to everyone who reviews, follows, favorites. Please let me know what I'm doing wrong, but just as much, please let me know what I'm doing right so I can continue to do it! At any rate, now that I've said what I wanted to say, enjoy a moment to which I have been building since the first chapters of the series.**_

* * *

CHAPTER FOUR

THE RESIDENT WOLF

O

Rose was still aggressively ignoring Albus the next day. He'd told her that he'd made the Quidditch reserve squad; she didn't smile. Instead, she raised an eyebrow and said, "Well, look at you."

In addition, _all_ the Gryffindor girls seemed to become colder and colder to Albus. He figured it was probably effects of Rose being angry with him, but he still didn't know why that was the case.

Then, on the start of the fourth week of classes, he got a more pleasant surprise.

He had Transfiguration first with the Ravenclaws, and as he sat down next to Alec, Holly sat down next to him and flashed him a big smile.

He smiled back easily. "Hi!"

"Hi, Albus, how was your break?" she asked.

"Great, how was yours?"

Alec looked annoyed that he was pushed out of the conversation, but the class started fairly soon anyway.

"Today, we're going to do a little class activity in preparation for tomorrow," said Professor Desulgon, setting some books down. "During tomorrow's double period, we're going to be turning water into liquid chocolate. The person with the most delicious production gets to take home some of Honeydukes' best chocolate."

The class all tittered excitedly about turning water into chocolate.

"I've set this activity for tomorrow because it's going to be very difficult for a second year," said Professor Desulgon, "and tomorrow is the full moon."

Riley turned around in his seat and glanced about the classroom, grinning when he confirmed that Exo was, again, not present.

"This is why I taught you about Kinesis last term—so you'd understand why I set dates like this for the same time every month. But wands are better now, and your increased Kinesis will help with the fact that this is a task I took as part of my third year exams. The reason it's so difficult to turn water into good chocolate is because there are a lot of organic ingredients. But if you focus on the taste enough, the spell should work adequately. Last year I had Tania MacAllay and Bertrand Armice, and they made some of the greatest fudge I've ever had—it was phenomenal… I should ask them for some more. Anyway, I expect some of you to take on the challenge of making fudge by the end of the year; it's harder than liquid chocolate, the consistency is different and it's richer."

Rose was glaring at Albus again. He gave her a "What did I do?" look, and she turned away again.

"Usually I just get kind-of-chocolaty water from this exercise," continued Professor Desulgon, "but my hope is that by the end of the year, you could all work for Honeydukes." He shrugged. "Well, actually, there are some health hazards to eating too much Transfigured substance, so they wouldn't hire you for this."

Rose raised her hand.

"Yes, Miss Weasley?"

Rose actually looked offended when he called on her, and Professor Desulgon noticed, looking surprised at her reaction.

She still asked her question, though. "Isn't this contradictory to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration?"

"Oh, no, you can certainly transfigure water into other liquid sustenance," answered Professor Desulgon. "It's just that the new substance has no nutritional value and so it will act just like water in your system. It's impossible to imitate the chemicals found in organic matter."

"What're chemicals?" asked Arthur Acromere.

"Take Muggle Studies," answered Professor Desulgon. "It's actually very helpful for finding out how things work. Did that answer your question, Rose, dear?"

Rose looked much happier. "Yes, it did. Thank you."

"I always enjoy your insistence on knowing all aspects of a topic," said Professor Desulgon, winking at her. She blushed, and her bad mood seemed to dissipate.

Professor Desulgon had an astonishingly good talent for relieving tension. Albus had noticed it many times in class last year, too. He wished he could do the same for Rose.

"Rose is still on about that whole 'best in Gryffindor' thing, huh," asked Holly.

Albus turned to her. "What do you mean?"

"She's been mad at you ever since you kind of stole her thunder as a know-it-all."

Albus thought about that for a while and realized that it made perfect sense.

"Dinah overheard her talking mutinously to her friends about it," said Holly. "I don't understand why she'd be upset that you're just as smart as her, but that's what she's been all upset about."

"I'm not as smart as her," laughed Albus. "Not nearly! I just… can do spells quicker."

"You're every bit as smart as her," said Holly, poking his arm.

Albus was beginning to heat up, so he tried to change the subject. "Why'd she get all mad at Professor Desulgon when he called on her the first time, you think?"

"I think it's because he called her 'Miss Weasley,'" replied Holly, "and he calls you 'Albus.' She seemed better about it when he called her Rose the second time."

That was also probably true. It did seem like Professor Desulgon was less formal around Albus. Rose had been mad ever since Professor Desulgon had said…

"Wait," said Albus. "Professor Desulgon said to me that I was the top Gryffindor _guy_. He never said I was better than Rose…"

Holly tilted her head. "Are you sure? That's what she was so mad about."

"Guys, shut up, Professor Desulgon's explaining the chocolate thing," said Alec.

Holly and Albus both glanced over at him in general astonishment. Neither of them had expected Alec to actually be invested in something that a teacher was saying. Was Alec feeling okay?

"I just… like his class," mumbled Alec, turning red and staring back up to the front where Professor Desulgon was stressing the correct pronunciation of the spell.

"I'm being hard-nosed about this because it's important, remember," said Professor Desulgon. "Like, if you pronounced it 'Co-KAH-flew-us' instead of 'Co-KOH-flew-us,' you'd end up with something that looks like water but makes you hallucinate and start itching and twitching violently. Repeat after me: '_Cocofluous_.'"

"Co-KOH-flew-us," repeated the class.

"All right, now everyone in turn, just to make sure nobody's going to say it wrong. You first, one of the Greengrasses, I can never tell which one you are…"

"Co-KOH-flew-us," said either Archie or Ashton.

"Good. Other Greengrass?"

"Co-KOH-flew-us."

"Good. Sebastian?"

"Co-KOH-flew-us."

"Good. Mr. Acromere?"

"Co-KOH-flew-iss," said Arthur.

"No, it's more like an 'us' at the end," corrected Professor Desulgon. "Again. '_Cocofluous_.'"

"_Cocofluous_."

"Excellent. Miss Kaska?"

The rest of the class tried their hand at the pronunciation, and they all seemed to get it. After a lot of mundane, repetitive practice in actually performing the spell, with little results, they were dismissed for their break before History of Magic.

Albus couldn't shake his thoughts about Exo, especially when he passed James in the hallway. He was laughing and talking with his three closest friends, and Albus, after a moment's consideration, decided it couldn't hurt to ask.

"James!" he called, chasing after his brother.

James turned around and grinned. "Al! What can I do for you this fine morning?"

"Do you, er… happen to know where Exo is, today, right now?" asked Albus in a mumble.

James darted his eyes to either side and then made eye contact with each of his friends in turn. "Er… Hold on, I'll, er… check." He darted through a tapestry that Albus didn't know concealed an opening.

Albus tried to follow him, but Gavin placed an arm in his path, smiling.

"Our methods of navigation and detection are a trade secret," explained Marco.

James emerged in less than ten seconds anyway. "He's just leaving the hospital wing now," said James. "I think he's heading up to his dad's office, but I can't be sure."

That was more information than Albus was seriously expecting to get. "Thanks," he said suspiciously, still not sure how James managed to get the information so quickly.

"Not a problem," said James. "Just, in return, let me know if you ever find out exactly what's up with that kid; I'm dying of curiosity."

"I… will," said Albus, instantly regretting the promise, but James was already gone in the crowd.

Well, he had a class-long break and nothing to do with it, so he decided to try and intercept Exo. He didn't know where to start, so he raced up to the seventh floor so he'd at least be at the entrance to the Headmaster's office before Exo.

He tried to figure out which path Exo would be taking to get up here from the hospital wing. Feeling like he'd probably figured out which would be the fastest, he started to walk down that way so that he'd run into Exo.

As he descended, though, he started to doubt that this was the quickest path, especially when he was about to take one staircase from the fifth to fourth floor and it changed so suddenly that he almost stepped straight into thin air. He knew there were permanently placed Cushioning Charms below such hotspots for tumbles, but it didn't take away the way the experience stopped one's heart.

And then he looked across the gap and saw Exo climbing up, about to pass him, looking worse than Albus had ever seen him. To add to his gaunt figure, he looked absolutely distraught.

But before Albus could call across the gap, someone else got to Exo first.

"Hello there, moon boy," said a much older student, walking out unseen from behind a tapestry to block Exo's path.

Exo glanced up and his limbs seized. He turned around to go a different way, but another student appeared and closed the path behind him. He backed up against the wall, looking around in vain for a tapestry; there was none.

One of the students was a Hufflepuff, and the other a Slytherin. They looked to be sixth or seventh years. A wave of cowardice flooding over him, Albus ran behind the staircase to remain unseen as they advanced on Exo slowly.

"My cousin," seethed the Hufflepuff, "is eleven years old, and was born magical into a Muggle family, like me. But she's not here at Hogwarts. You wanna know why?"

Exo pressed himself further against the wall.

"Because _you're_ here. Because people like _you_ are crawling around the Hogwarts halls. Her parents don't want her to come. They want her to stay _normal_."

He approached Exo very closely; Exo was unable to shrink himself down any further.

"Why don't you get your furry ass out of here so good people like my cousin can get the education they deserve?" he growled. "_Werewolf!_"

Exo closed his eyes as if that would make them go away.

Crouched behind the stairs, Albus gasped. _Werewolf?_ But everybody knew he wasn't… they had seen him during the full moons…

What was going on?

"Here, I'll help you start moving," snarled the Slytherin, whipping out his wand. "You can take care of the rest of the way to the door."

He swished his wand to one side, and Exo was yanked as if by a rope; he was flung towards the stairs and tumbled down them.

Albus leapt to his feet furiously as the two older students pursued his friend. He pulled out his own wand and yelled, "_Expelliarmus!_"

The spell was more powerful than any Disarming Charm he'd used up to this point, and it was able to knock the Slytherin off of his feet. The Hufflepuff looked around, and blanched when he saw Albus standing there, a witness to his crime.

"Shit," he muttered.

The Hufflepuff was about to dart off when another spell hit his wand and flung it far from his grasp; Albus looked up to see none other than James standing on the floor above with his wand pointing down. At his side was Wilcox.

Albus felt relieved at the same time that he felt a surge of fury towards his initial instinct to hide. What was he thinking? If he had shown his face earlier, there's no way they would have continued abusing Exo; not if there was a separate witness. He could have stopped them from attacking his friend if he hadn't ducked into a corner to protect himself… How could he abandon his friend in a time of need like this, especially when the only reason he'd come up here was to help?

Exo stood up on the stairs, a cut under his hair dripping blood down his forehead, and he stared up at his father with intense loathing. He was about to turn and run when Wilcox screamed at the top of his lungs, "_WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?_"

Wilcox didn't look angry, though; he looked scared. He glanced at Albus by the stairs, and then turned his gaze to the two frightened teenagers who had stopped looking for an escape route when the headmaster had caught them.

James was already running down the stairs, and stopped by Albus. "Are you all right?" he asked, placing both hands on Albus's shoulders.

"Yeah, yes, I'm fine," said Albus. "It's… It was Exo they were hurting."

"I was checking on you, and I saw—I, er, noticed that there were two people waiting behind tapestries," said James, barely above a whisper. "I was already on the seventh floor for Divination, so I ran to get Exo's dad. I was worried they were after Exo. I was right, huh."

Still confused as to how James achieved all this information, Albus looked back up just in time to see Wilcox vault the railing with surprising agility; adjusting his fall with his wand, he landed with a smash on the floor below, just inches from the two offenders.

"What has happened here?" he heaved.

"They attacked Exo," blurted Albus immediately, without thinking; all three heads from the group swung around to look at him. "They called him—they told him to leave Hogwarts, and then they threw him down the stairs. I was watching the whole thing."

Wilcox stared the two boys down. "Am I hearing this right, Castel?" he asked the Slytherin. "In this time, when wizards must stick together the most… you are _attacking_ a helpless boy four years younger than yourself, for a condition that is not his fault and which he cannot control?"

He was dead calm in saying this, and his voice grew quieter as he continued to speak, but even just listening to him speak to someone else, Albus was petrified. Every word Wilcox spoke was instilled with such hostility that Albus felt like the headmaster was about to do something unspeakable.

When both boys looked like they were about to pee their pants as badly as Harry Lussen, Wilcox seemed satisfied with the effect, and he backed off; the room felt like how Albus assumed one could sense the departure of a herd of Dementors. But the two boys were still left shaking.

"What happened exactly, Albus?" asked Wilcox, turning around to face across the gap to Albus's staircase. "The Hufflepuff we have here is Mr. Bertrand Doshaw, and this Slytherin is Mr. Toulouse Castel. What exactly did they do?"

"They… cornered him," said Albus carefully, but neither boy was making eye contact or any sort of threatening gesture at him; they looked defeated. "D-Doshaw was telling him angrily that he should leave Hogwarts… because he was a…"

Exo's head snapped up. Albus had almost forgotten he was there, down a few stairs from the group.

Albus swallowed and didn't finish the sentence. There might be people around whom Exo wouldn't want to know, if it were true.

"Er… and then, Castel took out his wand, and Exo flew down the stairs," finished Albus quickly before he lost the nerve to relay the whole story in front of the offenders. "That's… that's it. That's what happened."

"Do you deny any of that?" asked Wilcox, turning to them again.

They made no gesture. They looked like a Dementor had Kissed them.

"One hundred points from Hufflepuff and one hundred points from Slytherin," said Wilcox. "Detention every Saturday until the end of term. I'll extend it to the end of the school year if I feel you haven't served enough of a sentence. Now get out of our sight."

Castel and Doshaw walked swiftly away from the scene, looking like they were in a state of shock.

"Exorian, come with me," said Professor Wilcox. "Albus, James, you too."

Albus and James ascended several staircases until they met Exo and his father on the seventh floor, and then Wilcox escorted them to the entrance to his office.

"_Kool-Aid_," he said dramatically, and the stone gargoyle leapt to the side to reveal the ascending staircase onto which the four of them stepped.

When they reached Wilcox's office, Exo took a chair and buried his face in his hands. Albus had seen his eyes watering on the way up. His shoulders shook and he looked paler than ever.

"Thank you so much, James, for coming to get me," said Professor Wilcox quietly as the rest of them took seats. "And to you, Albus, for finding Exorian and being able to tell us what happened. Fifty points to Gryffindor. Thank you so very much."

James looked thrilled; Albus suspected this was the first time he'd _earned_ points for Gryffindor, outside of Quidditch.

"James, I'd like you to go get Professor Valon," said Wilcox, "and ask him to bring 'the potion' up here immediately, or give it to you for delivery."

"What potion?" asked James, rising from his chair.

"He'll know if you ask him," said Wilcox. "Tell him that I request that he interrupt his class if necessary."

James exited.

Wilcox turned to Albus. "You are Exorian's friend," said Wilcox. "And you've been looking out for him. I know."

Exo shook and wiped his eyes on his sleeve.

"And you heard them call him a werewolf?" asked Wilcox.

"_Dad_," fumed Exo.

"Come off it, Exorian, you need to let your friends know now before they find out through the grapevine," said Wilcox.

He turned back to Albus. "Well, that is true," he continued. "Exorian… is indeed a werewolf."

"You said you'd _never tell anyone without my permission!_" screamed Exo, tears streaming down his face. "And I _never gave permission!_"

"I was legally obliged to answer Mr. and Mrs. Doshaw when they inquired," said Wilcox sternly but calmly. "I have told you this."

"You told me you'd do everything in your power to keep it a secret!" raged Exo.

"Lying was not in my power to do," said Wilcox, his mouth twitching. "I'm not going to—to lie to anybody, especially not after a direct question. Albus, I will explain: these Muggle parents had heard that werewolves existed in the magical world, and requested to know whether there were any in the school. I had to answer yes."

"You didn't have to tell them it was me," cried Exo.

"I tried to use the fact that you were my son to convince the parents to rethink their decision not to send their child here," said Wilcox. "I am sorry for that, but I did bind them from ever repeating the information."

"And you really thought that would work?" shot Exo.

"I have a terrible habit of trusting people as a rule," murmured Wilcox.

Exo turned to Albus. "And the parents told all their nieces and nephews who were here," he said, apparently trying to turn Albus against his father. "That's why everyone who wants to know about my condition can know now, and that's why I've been abused since coming back—and he thinks I should let _everyone_ know now!"

"But…" Albus sputtered; he was still lost. "But… we've all seen Exo during the full moon!"

"You've seen him, but you haven't seen _him_," said Wilcox, pointing to his son.

Albus's face contorted in confusion. "Huh?"

"I knew people would catch on if Exorian was sick every night of the full moon," said Wilcox. "So I took some Polyjuice Potion, prepared when he was healthy. I went to his late afternoon or morning classes, and Astronomy of course, whenever Exorian was too sick to attend. Prior to the full moon, in young werewolves especially, there are intense headaches and frailty. So, I would sleep in his bed and attend his classes while he waited out the effects of the Transfection with the help of the Wolfsbane Potion in my office."

Albus's head was spinning. It explained so much of what he'd heard. But how could he not have noticed…?

"That's what I've sent James to retrieve," said Wilcox. "The Wolfsbane Potion. Except, there's no reason for us to get it now rather than later; I just wanted James out of the room so that I could tell you that."

Albus smiled a little bit.

"Watch out for Exorian, please," said Wilcox softly. "Will you?"

"Of course," said Albus eagerly. "Exo, it's okay. I won't tell anyone else."

"You won't have to, everyone will know soon," sniffed Exo. "Especially now that you've made those two kids really mad. Now they'll tell everyone to get back at me."

"And you will have to be strong," said Wilcox. "But you don't have to be strong alone. Tell your friends."

"I don't want to," said Exo.

"Telling your friends is important. It could save your life."

"Then I want to die."

Wilcox looked shocked, but he tried his best to shake it off.

"What are you saying?" he asked his son.

"Why can't there be a cure?" asked Exo, burying his head in his arms again.

"The top magical minds are working on it, Exo, but it's just something you have to live with for now," said Wilcox.

"I don't want to live with it," said Exo.

"Not wanting to live with something shouldn't be a reason for dying," said Professor Wilcox. "I meant it when I said that the top magical minds are working on a cure, especially now that werewolves' existence is making so many Muggles fearful." He seemed to regret saying that last part. "John Solomon was closer than anyone, I believe. He was getting closer and closer every day before he went missing…"

James burst back in, holding a vial of smoking potion. The smoke was faintly blue.

"Got it," he said, raising an eyebrow at it every time he looked. "…What is it?"

"Thank you, James," said Wilcox. "Now, didn't you say you were headed up to Divination? You're already very late."

James looked at the door, and then back at Wilcox. "Yes, well, sir, the thing is…"

"The thing is, what?" asked Wilcox, confused.

"The thing is, it's Divination," said James, "and it's kind of deathly dull and useless."

Wilcox stifled a laugh, but still waved a hand to chivvy James out. "Get to class, I'm still the Headmaster," he chuckled.

James sighed and departed.

"Do me a favor, Albus," said Wilcox, after the door had closed behind James. "Please, tell other mutual friends of yours and Exorian's, because I know he won't, but he should."

"Don't tell _anyone else_," said Exo, "or I'll never speak to you again."

"I'll talk him down, just do it," pleaded Wilcox.

"I'll bite you in your sleep," barked Exo.

"Exorian!"

"_Dad!_"

The tension in their shared glare was unbearable. Albus got up out of his chair so quickly that he knocked it over, and both of them whirled around to look at him, still making their conflicting requests very clear in the looks they were giving him.

"I'm… going to go," said Albus. "I'll… talk to you later, Exo."

"Not likely, I'm going to be locked in here all night," grumbled Exo. "And I swear, if you tell anyone, I'll kill you."

"Tell as many of Exorian's friends as you feel comfortable," retaliated Wilcox, "or _I_ will tell them, and you'd better not threaten to kill _me_, kid."

"I'd like to, believe me!"

"Bye, then," said Albus nervously, and he ducked out of the room.

He walked straight into James, who was hiding behind the door, listening.

"They still haven't said exactly what his affliction is," said James. "Do you know yet?"

"Bye," said Albus nervously, and he sped down the spiral staircase.

"Hey!" said James, following. "Hey! You know, don't you? You know!"

Albus ran right into the stone gargoyle at the end of the staircase. "Whoa, there," it said, and stepped aside to admit him back into the rest of the castle.

"Bro! You promised you'd tell me!"

Albus cringed as he entered a fast walk. He _had_ promised… and according to Wilcox, he was supposed to tell other people… but James didn't fit the category of "mutual friends" of him and Exo… and still, Exo had asked him not to tell anyone…

"Why won't you tell me?" asked James, catching up and clapping a hand down on Albus's shoulder.

"I DON'T KNOW!" screamed Albus, skidding to a stop.

Professor Obbin peeked down to see who was shouting from a banister above them.

"Oh," said James. "Sorry, I… Well, if you don't know, then tell me when you find out, okay?"

And he left.

Albus stood still, staring. He'd meant that he didn't know why he wasn't telling James after a promise, that he didn't know whether to tell James or what to do in general. But if James took that as a dismissal, then he wasn't going to correct his brother.

However, he still had conflicting decisions in what to do next. Did he go to his next class and tell Alec? Or dare he go to the common room and tell Jonah, another of Exo's friends? What would Exo do?

Exo couldn't stay mad at him, right? They were friends. Was this a different situation, one that couldn't be forgiven based solely on friendship? Exo seemed far more worked up about this than Albus had ever seen him, threatening to bite Albus in his sleep…

He went back through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room, went to the second years' dormitory, ignoring questions from his classmates of where he had been after class and where Exo was. He gathered up his stuff and sat in wait for History of Magic to start, tuning out everyone until they decided correctly that it was pointless to talk to him. Gimmick purred happily at Albus's return and jumped onto his lap.

His head was spinning. He'd just found out something he'd believed to be impossible: One of his closest friends was a werewolf. How does the average person deal with a revelation like that?

Did this change how he saw Exo as a friend? Of course not. He knew he wasn't in _danger_ or anything from knowing Exo. But the steps he'd taken to keep this secret from his friends were rather drastic. Did he have a problem trusting people? What else was he keeping secret? Why didn't he want Albus to tell their other friends, even though he'd said himself that everyone would probably find out sooner or later?

Maybe _Exo_ wanted to tell them.

That might have been it. Maybe he didn't want his father to know, for some weird reason that had to do with their complicated relationship. Maybe Wilcox would have taken "I want to tell my friends" as "We should tell everyone," and Exo didn't want to be quite _that_ cavalier with the information.

He was snapped out of his turbulent thoughts when Exo walked in.

He stood up immediately to make his presence known; Exo glanced up and then cast his gaze back to the floor somberly as he let his bag drop to the floor.

Jonah was a concerned friend. He strode over quickly and began trying to make sure that Exo was okay.

Exo pushed him away rather harshly, though, and Jonah was surprised. Then Exo cleared his throat and tilted his head back at the ceiling.

"I'M A WEREWOLF!" he thundered.

All conversation in the Gryffindor common room ceased at once.

Everybody turned to stare at Exo. He didn't look any more upset, or any happier, than he'd been walking into the room, or in his father's office, or at any time this year that Albus remembered, now that he thought about it. It was as if Exo had done nothing more important to himself than scratching an itch.

"In case anybody wanted to know," he said, picking up his bag and heading off to History of Magic.

Albus followed; it was about that time, anyway. When they entered the classroom, he took a seat fairly close to Exo, to keep an eye on him. Jonah took a seat directly next to his friend, and started up a deep and serious conversation with him.

As Alec entered the room and sat next to Albus, he raised an eyebrow, noticing the fact that every Gryffindor was staring at Exo looking somewhat shaken. He waited awkwardly for a while as Albus was among those stealing constant glances at Exo. After some time had passed and class was almost ready to start, he tapped Albus on the shoulder and whispered, "Why is everyone so creepily interested in Exo right now?"

Revealing this was still something that Albus strongly considered, but given the fact that Exo had just screamed it in the common room for anyone to hear, it didn't seem like as much of a taboo topic anymore.

"Exo… just kind of shouted to the whole common room that he was a werewolf," said Albus truthfully, while leaving out the incident he'd witnessed beforehand.

"Whoa," stated Alec simply. "Really?"

"Really," said Albus.

"It's true?"

"It's true."

Alec nodded almost in appreciation, like he was impressed.

"Our resident wolf," he said.

Albus glanced back at Exo, who still looked deathly sick. He didn't know why Exo was in class, if this was the day before a full moon.

If he had to guess, he'd say that this was probably an act of further defiance. Wilcox didn't like his son attending classes right before the full moon, if Albus was correctly interpreting the arguments upon which he'd eavesdropped. Exo seemed to want to annoy his father. He wondered if this also had something to do with why Exo had screamed his secret condition to everyone who wanted to hear; Albus recalled Wilcox also having reservations about letting _everyone_ know.

Exo was complicated, and seemed fickle on what he wanted in regards to his… furry little problem. It was difficult to be his friend, but Albus hoped they could stay friends. He sure wouldn't let something like this take away from their friendship, and he hoped Exo wouldn't, either.


	5. Loki, Pokey, Polo, and Pent

CHAPTER FIVE

LOKI, POKEY, POLO, AND PENT

O

"I have to say," said Professor Desulgon the next day, passing back Alec's small cup which contained what was left of his fudge. "I am duly impressed. This is far and beyond what I was expecting. Twenty points to Ravenclaw."

Alec's face lit up instantly.

"Best in the class, right here," said Professor Desulgon. "So far, anyway. Mr. Potter?"

Albus handed Professor Desulgon his cup. They had each been given cups that held less water than could be considered a satisfactory gulp, but it was because, as Professor Desulgon said, Transfiguring more of it was harder.

"This is also quite good," said Professor Desulgon, handing the cup back after he'd extracted the fudge and downed it, "but it falls quite a ways short of Mr. McKinnon's handiwork. Let me check while it's still fresh in my mind… Did anyone else in here make fudge as opposed to liquid chocolate? Raise your hand if you did, even if I've had yours already."

The only people in the class who raised their hands were Alec, Albus, Holly, and Rose. Professor Desulgon took Holly's next, and suppressed a gag after he'd swallowed it.

"Bit too watery," he said, choking a little bit.

Holly looked traumatized.

"Oh, no, no," said Professor Desulgon, thumping his chest and waving his other hand around. "I'm not choking because—not anything about the taste, I just—swallowed wrong. Throat spasms. Nothing personal."

He aimed his wand at his throat and immediately took a deep, cleansing breath. Holly looked somewhat less downcast at the news that it hadn't been the taste of her fudge that almost killed the Transfiguration teacher.

Professor Desulgon tried Rose's next, and gave a thoughtful face before shaking his head no. "I have to hand it to Mr. McKinnon. You can keep those twenty points, sir, that was fantastic."

Alec grinned and leaned back complacently in his chair.

"I love this time of the year," said Professor Desulgon, moving onto Dinah Bohr. "Free chocolate for me."

When he had tested everyone's chocolate, Professor Desulgon walked back to the front of the classroom and cleared his throat.

"That was phenomenal, everybody," he said, scratching his side. "Great work. This really fits my theory that we need to amp up the difficulty of classwork; you took a task that, a score ago at the turn of the century, would have been difficult for third years, and in general, you all crushed it; you really did. Keep up the excellent work."

He winked at Alec.

As they exited the classroom, Albus told Holly he'd see her the next morning and caught up to Alec.

"Hey, I'm proud of you!" he said.

Alec was walking very fast and looking very happy and energetic. "I'm really proud of myself, too," he beamed.

"So what's with this sudden indulgence of effort?" asked Albus. "I know you're trying really hard in Transfiguration, more than you've ever worked… I was just wondering if there was a particular reason for it."

"Idunno," said Alec meekly. "I just… like Professor Desulgon's classes, I guess."

"I'm sure he really likes having you, too," said Albus. "Don't you like your other classes, too?"

"Well… definitely not History of Magic, let's throw that out right now… Charms is pretty good, I like that one too… not Astronomy, not Herbology, not Potions… Defense Against the Dark Arts is okay… I don't really know, I just really like Transfiguration for some—"

He stopped short as he raised an eyebrow at a group of people clustered in the hallway. Albus had seen it, too.

"What do you think's going on there?" asked Albus.

"No clue."

They shuffled closer, but they were still kept on the fringes of the crowd by the densely packed older students who were in the front; Albus and Alec were also much shorter, so they couldn't see very well.

Alec extracted his wand with a thoughtful look on his face. "_Salimotor,_" he said, pointing his wand at his feet, and then he bent his legs and sprung fifteen feet in the air, his hair almost brushing the floor of the corridor above.

"Weird," said Alec, landing. "There's a graffiti over there."

"The singular is 'graffito,'" said Aidan, appearing by their side. "And what's going on over here?"

"Why do you know so much useless stuff?" asked Alec.

Eftan emerged from the center of the crowd. "It's really cool," he said, grinning wildly. The front of his robe was drenched in purple and pink paint.

"What the heck happened to you?" asked Alec.

"The graffiti happened," laughed Eftan. "The teachers are all trying everything up their sleeves to remove it, but they seriously can't. Whoever made this graffiti is, like, a genius. They've definitely outsmarted the teachers so far."

"Can't they just ask the portraits who did it?" asked Aidan, looking around at the people in the picture frames, who were chatting with each other excitedly.

"I don't think they know," said Eftan. "I heard a funny little knight on a fat horse say that the graffiti just appeared out of nowhere on the wall; they're not even sure exactly _when_ it happened, it was so slick and silent."

"Peeves?" asked Aidan.

"Don't think so," replied Eftan. "He's not that good. This is some serious artwork."

"What does it say?" asked Alec eagerly.

"I'll try to remember it," said Eftan. "I was in the midst of reading it when some of the words squirted me. You can see laughing demon-like creatures dancing behind the letters like the letters are holes in the wall; sometimes they'll shoot paint at you and laugh." He cleared his throat. "It was something like, 'Our arrival is nigh, now brace yourself, student or teacher, human—'"

"WHO'S RECITING THE WORDS?" thundered a voice that Albus recognized as Professor Westerling's. "STOP SAYING WHAT'S WRITTEN ON THE WALL, YOU'RE MAKING IT SQUIRT US!"

"Oh," laughed Eftan. "So that's what's doing it… It's squirting out paint whenever we read it or recite it."

"What else is it doing?" asked Albus, impressed.

"It's also dripping paint down," said Eftan. "The paint is feeding down under the staircase, and I'm not sure what it's doing on the floor below…"

"Wanna go find out?" said Alec excitedly, and he charged around the back of the horde of students, barreling down the stairs. The other three friends followed him closely.

"Shouldn't we be headed to Charms?" asked Aidan nervously.

"Look," said Albus, pointing to the other side of the group. "There's Professor Plinky."

Professor Plinky was standing on his tiptoes, trying hopelessly to see through the crowd.

"I guess we won't be too late, then," said Aidan nervously.

"Live a little, book boy," laughed Alec.

They skidded to a stop under where the group of students was, in time to see the paint drip down through the ceiling above and make another set of words below; down here, there were about two dozen students, as opposed to the mass of students below.

"Hey, it says the same thing as above," said Eftan. "It's like the paint is reproducing or something."

Albus looked close at the words, intrigued.

_Our arrival is nigh! Now brace yourself,_

_student or teacher, human or elf!_

_Seventh or first year, lady or gent,_

_Hail LOKI, POKEY, POLO, and PENT!_

"Loki, Pokey, Polo, and Pent?" asked Albus.

A burst of paint spurted from the letters as soon as Albus finished saying the names, covering everyone on both floors in paint.

"STOP DOING THAT!" roared Professor Westerling.

"Loki, Pokey, Polo, and Pent!" shouted Alec; another spray spattered all of the students around the letters. A large number of them decided to evacuate at that point.

"Paragost, will you get down to Madam Birchbaum and have her make sure this paint isn't toxic?" asked Professor Westerling above them.

Professor Plinky rushed off down the stairs to the hospital wing.

"This is remarkable," said a voice behind Albus; he turned to see Uncle Charlie above them (here, of course, he was Professor Weasley).

"Hey, Uncle Charlie," said Albus.

"Hey, Al. Do you know what the story is behind this?"

Albus shook his head.

"It's strikingly familiar," chuckled Uncle Charlie. "It's like something Fred and George would have done while they were here. But the four names… It sounds almost like your grandfather's group of friends, the Marauders."

"Say again?" said Albus, confused.

"When your grandfather was here, he had a group of friends who called themselves the Marauders. They were Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs. Your grandfather James was Prongs. Moony was Teddy's father, Remus Lupin; Wormtail was that traitor Peter Pettigrew; Padfoot was Sirius Black. This whole thing—the set-up, the intricacy, the presentation—it reminds me of Fred and George's antics, but the names really remind me of the Marauder stories that your father tells."

"This sort of thing hasn't happened until now?" asked Eftan.

"What do you mean?" asked Uncle Charlie.

"I mean, you haven't seen graffiti from Loki, Pokey, Polo, and Pent before?"

The words sprayed the remaining students on the mention of the names again. More paint started to drip from the shining poem, but it was dripping sideways. And then the paint started running like a horizontal faucet down the hall; it turned two corners and formed more words on the opposite side of the staircase gap.

"This is intense," said Uncle Charlie. "And no, we haven't heard from these hooligans before. Whatever they were planning, they planned it right, because as soon as we tried to get it off of the first area it occupied—I advised against it, exactly for this reason—it started to spread immediately, resisting the attempt to be removed. These people knew what they were doing, and have been working on it for a while." He smirked. "I have to say, I'd be tempted to suspect James, except… this sort of extreme development seems rather beyond the level of a fourth year."

Albus glanced back at the sentences on the wall, still shimmering in pink and purple letters. There did indeed seem to be mischievous creatures peeking from behind the letters. The sheer effort in this graffiti design was admirable.

_Loki, Pokey, Polo, and Pent…_

"_Heard it from four of my good friends…"_

The connection that formed in Albus's mind gave him a jolt. A secret group of four friends? Did James know Loki, Pokey, Polo, and Pent? That would make a lot of sense for the few clues he'd been given, intentionally or unintentionally…

Absolutely, he'd have to bring this up to James.

Tuning back in to his friends' conversation, he heard a mention of Exo. The only thing he'd said about it all day yesterday was to Alec, confirming it; he had left it to Exo to disclose the information. Now that Exo had proven he was comfortable with screaming it to a roomful of people, Albus felt that he was no longer needed as the messenger.

"What about Exo?" he said, snapping back to reality.

"We were talking about what he screamed in the Gryffindor common room yesterday," said Aidan. "I'm just… I know the kid's got problems, but… I think it's kind of lousy for him to make up something like being a werewolf when we all know he isn't."

"Aidan…"

"I know, I know, I shouldn't judge if I don't know all the details. Maybe someone dared him to do it, I hear he did it rather unhappily…"

"Aidan!"

"What?"

"Exo _is_ a werewolf."

Aidan twisted his face up in skepticism.

"But Albus, we've _seen_ him during the full moon."

"We've seen his father, taking Polyjuice Potion to throw us off," corrected Albus.

Eftan gawked. "Seriously?"

"I talked to Exo and his dad yesterday. It's true."

Aidan looked around. "Maybe we should get to class."

"Exo must really have not wanted anyone to know, if he had his dad doing that," said Alec, ignoring Aidan.

"Well, he has a reason," said Eftan. "Remember what we were talking about on the train ride over here?"

"The whole Muggle reaction to werewolves thing?" asked Alec. "Yeah, I guess that's a pretty good reason to want to keep the condition a secret."

"And I think his dad actually changed his mind," said Albus. "It's kind of… paradoxical, but I think now that someone already knew about Exo's condition, and now that the world is more… dangerous for him, his dad wants him to have friends in whom to confide. Or maybe Professor Wilcox just wanted Exo to tell everyone before they found out for themselves."

"Or maybe you could ask Exo for yourself," said Exo, appearing out of nowhere behind Albus, "instead of talking about him behind his back."

Albus grimaced as he turned around. "Hi, Exo."

"What's all this about?" asked Exo, pointing to the words written on the wall. "_Our arrival is nigh, now brace—_"

"Ah—don't recite the words!" said Aidan, gesturing madly in front of Exo.

Exo's eyebrow rose as he slowly turned towards Aidan.

"It's charmed," explained Aidan. "It keeps spraying paint at people when they read the words aloud."

"That's pretty neat," said Exo appreciatively.

Albus was very grateful that Exo chose against pursuing the fact that they had been talking about him.

"I think we should get to Charms," said Aidan nervously.

"There's hardly anyone there," responded Exo. "So what's the crowd above us doing?"

"Looking at the same thing written on the wall above," said Alec, but even as he said it, the horde began to disperse. Wilcox had just arrived and was requesting that they all go to class.

"We should go, then," said Aidan, relieved.

"Nah, Professor Plinky's down in the hospital wing with Madam Birchbaum," replied Alec.

Aidan rolled his eyes and started walking. "Well, _I'm_ going."

"Well, _you're_ a nerd," answered Alec.

Exo followed Aidan, but Albus hung back for a while.

"So, what's been going on in the Muggle world in regards to werewolves?" asked Albus, beginning to walk with Alec and Eftan in a different direction. "We've talked a little bit about the general reaction, but… everyone hints that there's more than that."

"Exo's probably worried for himself," said Eftan. "There's been a significant number of wizard deaths attributed to Muggle activism, and apparently a disproportionate number have been werewolves."

"Oh," said Albus. He'd known that there were Muggle killers and that there was hostility against werewolves, but he hadn't known that the two were connected.

"Or at least, that's what Seb told me," said Eftan. "The Greengrasses are good friends with a werewolf."

At that time, Professor Plinky galloped awkwardly down the hall, giving a curious look to Albus as he passed.

"Oh, I should get to Charms," said Albus. "See you guys."

"I gotta go not do work in Potions," said Alec. "See you too."

O

Alec, however, began excelling in Transfiguration beyond the rest of the class. It was satisfying to see Alec finally doing well, but it was just as satisfying to see Professor Desulgon looking happier than a salamander in a bonfire whenever Alec performed at his peak. Whenever Alec succeeded, Professor Desulgon looked so proud he was on the verge of tears. It was touching, the way Professor Desulgon had taken such an interest in Alec's work, especially since Alec didn't see himself as the brightest student in the class. Albus often saw the two of them talking after class, or even in the halls, about something having to do with Transfiguration.

After every class assignment, group project, and spellwork quiz, Alec soared. The only things in which he didn't seem to perform at a Rose-Aidan level was on the short essays that were sometimes assigned. Still, Professor Desulgon would hand Alec's back last and say that he could clearly see the effort in the papers, but thought that Alec needed to refine his writing skills with friends. Alec, however, was still aversive to receiving help, it seemed, from anyone except Professor Desulgon.

This trend of Alec's carried all the way to Halloween. There were other curious incidents on the way to November: Apparently, every student in the school now knew that Exo was a werewolf, and some of them had tried to request to see him transform. People followed him around on the day of the next full moon, which was a week before Halloween, and nosed around so much in his business that Exo left before his first class again. No matter how much Exo asked people to stop bothering him, it was in vain. The students of Hogwarts seemed fascinated (and horrified) by his condition.

Also, more graffiti was appearing throughout the school, and still nobody had an explanation. There was a second painted poem a week after the first. It read:

_They've removed our artwork, mourns Mr. Loki._

_They've made us quite angry, scorns Mr. Pokey._

_Mr. Polo says "Hail us" is WHAT WE MEANT._

_So don't make us madder, warns Mr. Pent._

This one seemed rather more threatening than the first, and the teachers didn't seem as impressed as they had been by the first poem. They had more trouble taking down the second than the first—the first poem had only been around for a few hours, but this one stayed around for the entire day.

And then a third poem appeared, on the Friday before Halloween. This one was even more ominous:

_Messrs. Loki, Pokey, Polo, and Pent_

_Are now satisfied with this message we've sent._

_On Halloween night, you're in for a fright:_

_It's time for the first of our plans to take flight!_

This one stayed for days, shining mischievously on the walls, multiplying itself and covering most hallways by the end of the week—and it was still there on the Wednesday morning of Halloween. Not even the combined talents of the teachers could figure out how to remove it; these people really knew their stuff.

The message that Halloween Night would prove to be frightening was concerning to the teachers, but it had precisely the opposite effect on the students; Wednesday was fraught with excitement over what Loki, Pokey, Polo, and Pent were planning. Transfiguration was Albus's first class on Wednesday, and he arrived to see Professor Desulgon searching the room to make sure nothing was hidden in the room that might be used in this "first of their plans." When he was satisfied, he started class as usual, but seemed more attentive and alert, despite the warning that it would be on "Halloween night," and this was morning.

"Could have been to throw us off," he had said, "or maybe they used the word 'night' just for the sake of rhyming."

But nothing happened, at least in the first class period. When class ended without any incidents, Professor Desulgon let them go, but asked to see Alec. He then requested that Albus stay behind as well. Curious as to what this was about, Albus hung back with Alec as Holly cheerfully waved goodbye to him.

"Alec," said Professor Desulgon, organizing some of his drawers as he talked. "I've talked to you so much about your Transfiguration work, because it's so exceptional, but I realized that I didn't really know how you were doing in other subject areas. How are your other classes going?"

Alec flushed. "Er…"

"Not quite as well as Transfiguration?" asked Professor Desulgon, looking up from his desk.

Alec shook his head, his face getting redder; he looked over at Albus as if annoyed that one of his friends had to be here to listen to this.

"How are _you_ doing in your other classes, Albus?" asked Professor Desulgon.

Albus also flushed, but for different reasons. "Er…"

Professor Desulgon nodded, but didn't say anything more about it.

"Alec, you have an excellent mind," he said instead, turning back to Alec. "Why else would you be in my House?"

Alec mumbled words that were impossible to discern. Professor Desulgon didn't ask him to speak up.

"I know you're enjoying my class, I can tell," said Professor Desulgon. "But from what I hear from your other teachers, the feelings do not seem to carry to your other classes. Is there a particular problem you'd like to discuss with me?"

Alec shook his head no.

"It's hard being a Ravenclaw," continued Professor Desulgon. "All of your classmates are usually skating through either with very little effort, or with so much more effort than you think is reasonable. I know exactly how you feel. Some of your classmates are of that incomprehensible subspecies of human that actually _enjoy_ studying, and you can't bring yourself to learn the material because it's just not something you want to spend all of your free time doing."

Alec looked up, entranced by the speech.

"Did you know I almost had to retake my first year?" asked Professor Desulgon. "It's true—I hated learning. I tried my best for a while, and it wasn't enough. Transfiguration was especially difficult for me. All my classmates were under the tutelage of Theodora Thigby, our old Transfiguration professor, and they soared, and the expectations created by their successes were used to determine that I was a hopeless case, that nothing they did could save me. So believe me when I tell you… you are _not_ a lost cause. You're in my House. You just need someone to help you along until you learn the strategies necessary to carry yourself."

Albus couldn't take his eyes off of Alec. It was like Professor Desulgon was unlocking something in Alec's head, and the young Ravenclaw's expression was fascinating to watch.

"Transfiguration was my worst," admitted Professor Desulgon. "Professor Thigby ran a very strict, no-nonsense, essay-heavy course, and I couldn't keep up. But Professor Thigby couldn't understand why any Ravenclaw should be having any trouble, at least in their first year courses. She was convinced that all I needed was to learn a work ethic, and the way to bring that out of me was to bombard me with extra homework, twice as much as the rest of the class, and threaten me with retaking the year if I refused to do it. She wasn't the best professor, though I don't like to talk about people behind their backs. She didn't realize that what I needed was someone who cared about me, to lift me up. So in protest to the massive amounts of work I was assigned, I went to the Headmistress at the time, Minerva McGonagall."

Professor Desulgon smiled, as if reliving a happy memory. "Professor McGonagall wasn't too impressed with the fact that I was coming to her complaining about having to do work. She gave me a fierce talking-to; I felt afterwards like she had taken a whip to my backside." He grinned sheepishly. "But after that, she began investigating my situation. She said she could just tell that I had talent. And then, when I failed yet another Transfiguration test, and any further failures would have precluded me from advancing to the next year in Transfiguration… when all hope seemed lost… Professor McGonagall walked down to my next Transfiguration class and marched me up to her office, and began teaching me herself."

Alec's expression turned to amazement.

"Five years later, I was winning prestigious international awards," concluded Professor Desulgon with a large smile. "I was the world's youngest registered Animagus—she'd taught me herself—and I had become one of the few wizards to master Diwand spells, and even invented several spells of my own, particularly Frostflame, which gained me worldwide recognition—none of which would have happened without the careful guidance and strong belief of Minerva McGonagall. And I confess, I think the driving reason behind my, er, drive to become a teacher was because I felt a certain debt… I wanted to be carrying on my study into Diwandology, naturally, and I still am, but I also wished to be the same sort of figure for someone as Professor McGonagall was for me."

Alec seemed to be excited as to where this was going; Albus thought he could guess as well.

"So, I've noticed that you seem to be weaker on the written aspects of your work," Professor Desulgon went on, shuffling some parchment on his desk. "I have decided to tutor you privately in your writing. I shall do my best. It is my duty, as someone who has received the same type of help in the past, and knows how invaluable such assistance is for the rest of one's life."

Alec looked on the verge of tears. He stood up from his chair and hugged Professor Desulgon tightly, and his teacher patted him warmly on the back and asked him if he would stop by the next day for some tips on his essay skills. Alec agreed, and then, unanticipated by Albus, Professor Desulgon requested that Alec leave for a moment so that he could speak to Albus alone. Surprised but still very grateful from the earlier exchange, and not having said an audible word the entire visit, Alec stumbled out.

"Albus," said Professor Desulgon, stretching his back and then sitting back in his chair behind his desk. "Albus, Albus, Albus, Albus."

"Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes?" answered Albus.

Professor Desulgon laughed. "Excellent. Yes, well, you don't seem to be having any trouble yet, do you?"

Albus shrugged meekly. "…No, sir."

"How's Exo?"

This question took him by surprise. Albus didn't really have an answer.

"He's… fine," said Albus.

"I hear he's not really responding to his mentor's attempts to reach out to him," said Professor Desulgon. "Your cousin, Louis Weasley? Has he spoken to you about Exo this year?"

"Not this year," said Albus, shrugging again. He wondered if Wilcox had put Professor Desulgon up to this inquiry.

"If you're wondering whether Professor Wilcox put me up to this, you'd be wondering correctly," said Professor Desulgon. "He is very concerned about his son. A bit too concerned, if you ask me. It's irritating Exo. But you can't blame him, after what happened to his wife. I fear he still harbors… some unhealthy feelings about what happened."

"What happened?"

"That's not for me to tell you," said Professor Desulgon. "And I suggest you don't go asking. You're Harry Potter's son, so you probably know half the story, but… very few people are entrusted with the description of the whole sequence of events. I shouldn't even have brought it up to you. You may or may not find out when you're older… There's a very good reason why you don't know."

Albus huffed. When his father was twelve, he'd already beaten the most evil wizard in the world… three times. Obviously twelve-year-olds could handle anything. And he'd had it with the secrets—he'd just found out what was going on with his friend, and now there was something else he didn't know which was going to bother him for a long time to come…

His pout faded as he wondered to himself whether he just had an obsession with knowing everything.

"Anyway, we just want you to look after Exo," said Professor Desulgon. "Professor Wilcox didn't say this specifically, but I'll say it… Make sure he doesn't do anything stupid, if you can. If he does, it's not your fault, but if you can prevent him from doing something, please prevent it."

Albus nodded.

"He's clearly not happy with his current situation, and I can't blame him. The world sucks for him right now. You'd have thought we learned."

"Is it really that bad?" asked Albus, frowning. "I thought… with all Aunt Hermione's pushes for werewolf rights…"

"They will always get the short end of the stick," explained Professor Desulgon, "because they are different, and undeniably dangerous when accidents happen. Though, one must admit, anyone with a _wand_ is dangerous… I suppose it's just less difficult to imagine a werewolf having an accident, because, again, they are different from us. And werewolf rights have come a long way. But in these terrible times… the worst is brought out in many people. They need someone to blame, someone at whom to point fingers… and the Muggles, with their immense fear of werewolves due to their depiction in Muggle arts, made it easy for wizards to say that the existence of werewolves is generally detrimental to us all. It's dangerous for anyone in close proximity to them, according to the worst of us, and Muggles are made uncomfortable by their existence, so… we shouldn't tolerate their presence. It's people like this who made Professor Wilcox keep his son a secret for this long."

Albus nodded, trying to understand. But it was hard to understand that people could be this heartless.

"I'm talking too much," said Professor Desulgon. "What do you have to say?"

"Well…"

Albus tried to imagine that he was talking to Exo, trying to calm him down, tell him that things were okay. What would he say?

"It's not his fault he's a werewolf," said Albus. "It could have happened to anybody…"

_How did it happen?_

"You're wondering how it happened," guessed Professor Desulgon.

"Maybe," dismissed Albus. "It's not my business."

"You're his friend," said Professor Desulgon. "Ask him."

"I don't know…"

He didn't want his friend angry with him. Albus had already been talking about the condition behind Exo's back; he didn't want to further jeopardize their friendship by prying too far into things he shouldn't. But again, he was possessed by a desire to know everything, to understand everything that was going on and why it was happening. Was it worth the risk to ask?

"Do _you_ know?" asked Albus. "I don't want you to tell me if you do, but do you know?"

"I do," said Professor Desulgon. "And it's not pretty. But if Exo opens up to you about this, he'll be comfortable opening up about anything to you, which is what we want. We need someone with whom he can disclose all that he is thinking… not as a spy, by no means do you have to tell us in return. He just needs a close friend."

"I'll do it," promised Albus.

"Make sure he knows that you're not going to subsequently tell all of your other friends. He's already had enough of the rumor mill."

"Okay."

"Albus?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

Albus nodded with a smile and, when Professor Desulgon waved goodbye, he stood up and left with his thoughts swirling rapidly.

He ventured to History of Magic early to sit down and consider how he would go about asking Exo. It would have to be in a place where absolutely no one would overhear… where Exo could be secure in his knowledge that this conversation would remain entirely private…

Exo walked into the classroom completely alone right as Albus sat down.

Albus opened his mouth to greet Exo, and to begin the conversation before anybody else showed up, but a voice behind him caught him completely by surprise.

"Albus Potter, how are you today?"

Albus turned around after jumping violently in his seat and saw Litinia, the portrait with the same blue and purple eyes as Mia Moon, waving hello to him.

"You really need to stop jerking so badly when a portrait starts talking to you," she laughed. "With a year of Hogwarts experience behind you, you'd think you would have learned; I don't even know how you can handle the ghosts."

Albus glanced over to Exo, who was reading a piece of paper which he quickly (and rather nervously) stowed away when he saw Albus looking.

"_Make sure he doesn't do anything stupid…"_

Albus eyed the corner of paper sticking from Exo's bag suspiciously.

O

At dinner that evening, no one could relax. The message of Loki, Pokey, Polo, and Pent was still fresh in their minds—and still fresh on the walls. On Halloween night, something big was apparently scheduled to happen, and it was exciting to wonder exactly what that was going to be, but somewhat frightening at the same time.

Security had apparently been stepped up, but rather subtly. All of the teachers had their wands out and lying on the staff table. They were on the alert, but they evidently did not want… whoever these four pranksters were… to realize what an effect they'd had. It would have been encouragement for them to continue scaring the school if they knew the teachers were uneasy, because they would know they had succeeded.

Albus looked down the table at his brother, wondering if his suspicions were right, of James's "four friends" that he mentioned being Loki, Pokey, Polo, and Pent, but James was quietly eating; almost too calmly in regards to the rest of the school. Albus began to think that his guess was incorrect, considering that if the "four friends" had really been that important, that James wouldn't have let a hint slip like that. Usually James covered his tracks with proficiency whenever he was doing something wrong.

And then, all at once, it happened.

The food on the table started to rise into the air. Everyone looked around for the source of whoever was doing the levitation, but no one seemed to be casting any spells. Then a strong gust of wind whipped down the staff table, and every wand that was laid out on the table was suddenly blown to the side and off into a corner of the Great Hall. And when the teachers rose from their seats to try and retrieve their wands, they _literally_ rose—right into the air and straight up towards the ceiling with the food.

All of the students followed—with screams and whoops of terror and delight, every living person in the Great Hall, apart from a select few people on the ground, was rising into the air, passing all of the Halloween-themed treats. The ghosts watched, stunned, as the ceiling became denser and denser packed with the students and staff of Hogwarts. It looked, due to the enchanted ceiling, like they would never stop rising, but eventually everyone almost simultaneously bumped softly against the ceiling, while puddings and the like smeared their faces and robes as the food followed shortly after.

"What in the name of Merlin's house-elf is going on?" shouted Professor Obbin, snapping his fingers and tumbling back down to the ground slowly; Albus remembered that Professor Obbin didn't need a wand to do magic.

He snapped his fingers several more times, and most of the teachers descended. The four students left on the ground were two Hufflepuffs, a Slytherin and… _Exo?_ Why was he among the only four people not to be lifted up and become ceiling art?

"What the devil did you four do?" asked Wilcox in almost an appreciative voice; he looked excited.

"We didn't do anything!" shouted back the Hufflepuffs.

"I didn't even eat," said Exo confusedly.

"Ah, that's the ticket," laughed Wilcox. "The food! Did any of you four… eat anything yet tonight?"

The four students on the ground shook their heads no.

Wilcox shrugged. "Well done, Loki, Pokey, Polo, and Pent. Well done." He Summoned a piece of pumpkin pie from the ceiling and bit into it; immediately, he began to rise towards the ceiling again, but this time he had retrieved his wand and he pushed himself back down.

Alec looked over at Albus and grinned, spinning himself in circles until someone else drifted over and got shoved up against him. Albus was experiencing a weird sensation in his stomach, like rising balloons were trapped inside. He still didn't know who Loki, Pokey, Polo, and Pent were… but they were good. Very good.

As the teachers slowly had each student descend, Albus wondered what they would do next to spice up the Hogwarts life.


	6. The Lunar Eclipse Festival

CHAPTER SIX

THE LUNAR ECLIPSE FESTIVAL

O

Gimmick was already growing up. He was still definitely a kitten, but he was getting bigger every time Albus looked. Realizing that he only had a limited time with this scruffy little furball at its current size, Albus started playing with his kitten more and more, and Gimmick began to love Albus so much that he mewled in despair when Albus didn't take him to classes.

Gimmick also loved Rose, and was softening her up when she got mad at Albus, for which he was grateful. The fluffy little devil also made Albus very popular in the Gryffindor common room, as every girl swooned at the sight of the kitten's crazy little face. They gave him so much attention that his tiny brain seemed to be getting overloaded whenever anyone pet him.

But nothing made Gimmick happier than exploring outside of the castle. Albus started taking Gimmick out for walks, and after a while, Albus let his cat explore on his own. Gimmick was always back soon after leaving—always exactly an hour after leaving, in fact, it was uncanny—so his owner never had to worry. Shortly after he started the ventures about the castle, Gimmick made friends with Tippy, the indescribably cute Pomeranian dog of the caretaker, Alpheus Boderight. Soon the two started roaming the castle together, and Gimmick stopped coming back as quickly, and Albus became bored without his playful cat.

The first Quidditch match was soon. He was on the reserve squad, but he wasn't asked to come practice very much; only about once a week. He didn't really know if he wanted to keep coming, if he wasn't going to see any action, but James insisted that he keep it up to stay in good standing with the Quidditch team until he was good enough to take the Seeker position. Albus found himself almost wishing, terrible as it sounded to his own conscience, that James would be injured so that he could play a game.

O

"Quidditch time!" roared Riley, leaping out of bed and into his clothes.

It was the Saturday morning of the first Quidditch match of the year—Gryffindor versus Slytherin. There was no clear favorite, due to the clashing advantages of Gryffindor's extraordinary Seeker and Slytherin's excellent team, but it was predicted by most of the students that whichever team won this match would win the Quidditch Cup. The other Houses couldn't compare—not after Euan Yodelhop had left, anyway. The Ravenclaw team was good, but Slytherin was excellent, and Gryffindor's team was composed entirely of very good seventh years (apart from James, who was fantastic as well). It was really the lion and the serpent this year.

The room slowly emptied, and Albus purposefully took his time because it didn't look like Exo was getting out of bed. He'd decided last night that this was the day—if Exo didn't attend the Quidditch match, then Albus would stay behind for a while and ask Exo how he became a werewolf.

It wasn't near a full moon, but Exo had been very melancholic ever since the school found out he was a werewolf, and he hadn't been going to much outside of necessary classes (even skipping some of those). As Albus predicted, Exo did not look like he was attending the Quidditch match.

"Not going to Quidditch, Exo?" asked Albus nervously once everyone else had been gone for a while.

Exo shook his head no.

"Not going to breakfast?"

Exo rolled over, turning his back.

It was much more difficult to get to the question when it was finally time to ask. Albus sighed and tried to refine the wording of the question as much as he could before he finally asked.

"Exo… how did you become a werewolf?"

Exo got out of bed, grabbed his bag, and promptly left the room.

Albus sighed; he was worried about this. He didn't want to infringe on his friend's privacy, but he had promised Professor Desulgon that he would ask. Apparently both Professor Desulgon and Wilcox thought it would be best if Exo had someone with whom he had no secrets, so that he could finally open up and reveal what he was thinking—because right now, he was pretty much acting the definitions of "closed book" and "passive aggression."

Albus entered the common room, pursuing Exo, who was extracting a paper leaflet from his bag while he sat on a plushy armchair. There was no one else left.

"Do I have to leave the tower, or are you going to leave me alone?" asked Exo.

Albus cringed. This wasn't the start he was expecting to have.

"No, you don't have to leave, but you do have to explain why you won't tell me," said Albus, hoping he was taking the right approach.

"No, I don't," said Exo, standing up and letting his bag and the paper fall. "I don't _have_ to explain anything to you! But YOU _have_ to respect the fact that I'm not discussing my condition with anyone!"

"I'm your friend, Exo. Why won't you trust me?"

"It's not about trust! No one can possibly understand!" asserted Exo. "I never wanted to discuss it with anyone and I'm never going to!"

"Never—Never wanted to discuss it with anyone?" sputtered Albus, incredulous. "You _screamed_ it to the entire Gryffindor common room, what did you expect was going to happen?"

Exo fiercely muttered something that sounded a lot like "No, I didn't."

And suddenly Albus was in shock.

"You—didn't?" asked Albus, his eyes bulging. "Are you saying—"

Exo's father had taken Polyjuice Potion to turn into his son before, doing what he believed had been in his son's best interests. Had he…?

"I _begged_ him, I _pleaded_ him not to tell anyone!" bawled Exo, tears now streaming down his face. "I said some awful things to him, I know, but that didn't give him the right to—He thought it was good for me, to get it out there, but look what's happened since then! Exactly what I knew would happen, which is exactly why I didn't want to tell anyone! Hate, and bullying, and—and everything in between, and more. I bet he asked you to check up on me, too, didn't he!"

Albus shook his head no, clutching to the technicality that Professor Desulgon had asked him, not Wilcox.

"Don't lie to me, I can tell," growled Exo. "I know he did! No matter what I do, he's always there, telling me whether it's the right thing to do or the wrong thing to do—and I _hate_ it! I _hate_ how much he's intruding on me! Just because he doesn't want to lose me like he lost _her,_ he's smothering me to death, protecting me to the point where I've lost all chances of every being normal again, and—and I _just want to be normal!_"

Exo stood in his place, taking heaving, shuddering breaths, and Albus bit his lip, trying to take in everything that his friend had just said, and he realized something…

"See, you just opened up to me now," said Albus tentatively. "Apparently you need to."

Exo leaned down and snatched his bag, and marched out of the room in a rage.

Albus's eyes fell down to the chair where Exo had been sitting, and his eyes widened as he caught sight of what Exo had left on the chair.

The leaflet he had been reading was lying there, forgotten; Exo hadn't grabbed it when he grabbed his bag. Albus had seen him reading that paper at least once a day for the past week—it was the only time Exo had a look other than gloom on his face.

Curiosity overcoming all other naysayers among the voices in his head, he ran forward and picked up Exo's secret reading material.

_WEREWOLVES OF THE WORLD, BE AWARE._

The very first line caught Albus's attention immediately, and he gave a little start and scanned the rest of the page… but there were no other words. There was only a little full moon with a shadow moving across it, slowly.

Albus turned the flyer over, and found the other side to be blank. He turned it right-side up again, and considered what this could possibly be hiding, that Exo was so interested in it. There had to be something more to it…

"Werewolf," said Albus, trying to get a keyword right. "Wolf… moon… lunar… Luna Lovegood… come on, what are you hiding?"

He pressed a finger to the picture of the full moon, and then suddenly, more words started appearing, and he grinned.

_BE IN ATTENDANCE AT THE LUNAR ECLIPSE FESTIVAL, AND YOUR LIFE WILL BE FOREVER ALTERED. ON MONDAY, JANUARY 21, 5:06 A.M., ODDOLWELD PASTURE, LOTTOCROUGH ISLAND, NORTHUMBERLAND, ENGLAND, JOHN SOLOMON WILL DELIVER YOU FROM YOUR TRANSFECTION._

_-THE RITUAL-_

_-THE MAN BEHIND IT ALL-_

_-THE TRANSPORTATION-_

_-THE REQUIREMENTS-_

_-BACK-_

Albus pressed his finger to "The Ritual" and started to read. With a jolt, he realized that once Exo reached the library or wherever he was headed, he might realize that he'd left the paper. He read as fast as he could, while keeping an ear open for Exo's possible return. He didn't want his friend to know that he was snooping, but he also couldn't help continuing to read.

_The lunar eclipse has always been a powerful magical occurrence. The ancient wizard inhabitants of England believed that a lunar eclipse was a sign of anger in the spirits who watched over them, a belief encouraged by the observation that magic is weakest during the lunar eclipse. We have since thrown out such old superstitions, but when one investigates the rumors in regards to a specific ritual, there can be no denying the truths that lie within them._

_The wizard Oddolweld, who lends his name to the natural reserve upon Lottocrough Island, experimented in the eighth century with a practice known to few and believed by fewer. It was a ritual said to cure a werewolf of his monthly transformations—permanently. Oddolweld was mocked cruelly by his adversaries, until Oddolweld cured seven werewolves under the red light of the lunar eclipse. The notable magical historian of the time, George de Kingstaff, writes the following, transliterated into English in its modern-day usage:_

"_And behold, perhaps I have ignored the power of the ancient beliefs, or never truly understood them at any time, for in front of my eyes a shadow darker than night befell the seven men, and they screamed to the sky in the immensest pain, and then they were collapsed upon the ground, howling as they contorted. In a second, it was over, and they stood, and the shadow crossed the moon and left, and they did not transform back."_

_Unfortunately, when the full moon sank, these seven men died upon the morning light. Oddolweld was executed for murder before he could finish his work; before he could perfect his ritual. George de Kingstaff was also executed for his insistence upon the potential of Oddolweld's work. He tried to explain that, given more time, Oddolweld could succeed where no man had ever come close. He tried to warn them that by taking Oddolweld's life, they were dooming werewolves to an eternity without a cure. But the English magical government did not listen; they only saw seven dead men, rather than observing the sacrifice of the seven men who had agreed to be involved in the test, knowing the risks. Oddolweld was unable to convey his work to others before his life was taken, and until the twenty-first century, no one was able to repeat what he had done; not even come close. It looked as though George de Kingstaff was correct. Because Oddolweld calculated incorrectly once, his work was lost to all time… until now._

_-back-_

Albus pressed the word "back" and was returned to the first page he'd unlocked; he next pressed "The Man Behind it All," and continued gathering all the information he could before Exo returned. After the first sentence, he realized where he'd heard the name "John Solomon" before—wasn't he a man who went missing?

_John Solomon was a magical experimenter who was born to parents who had fled to Russia during the era of Voldemort, to escape retribution from having deserted the Death Eaters. At the age of fourteen, his parents were found and murdered by Death Eaters including Fenrir Greyback, who was guided to the Solomons' residence by Death Eaters while he had transformed into a werewolf. After Mr. and Mrs. Solomon had fallen, it was four-and-a-werewolf-on-one. Yet Solomon escaped them in a duel. He reveals that, on the night his parents were murdered, Fenrir Greyback suddenly transformed from a werewolf to a man, causing such confusion that he was able to flee and Disapparate. He later learned that what caused Fenrir Greyback to turn back was a lunar eclipse._

_It is not a widely publicized fact that, for the time that the lunar eclipse is underway, werewolves will revert to human form until the moon escapes the earth's shadow. But it is not a secret. Werewolves generally do not recall their time spent as a human during a lunar eclipse because they are exhausted and drowsy, and since they are avoided as a rule during the full moon, the transformation back is not readily noticed by others, either. But when John Solomon learned this, he wondered if perhaps werewolves like Fenrir Greyback could be cured by the power of the full moon._

_Solomon then dedicated more time than any wizard in modern history to the study of lycanthropy, and was mocked for it. But he pursued this ideal, and uncovered information that had been lost for more than a millennium—Oddolweld's personal notes, buried with his body for fear that the writings contained dark magic._

_Solomon knew that experimenting with living werewolves was the only way to discover a cure, but he also knew that this was illegal. He disappeared, under cover of the tumultuous environment of the modern magical world, and researched Oddolweld's methods, perfecting and refining them, until he was finally ready to test a theory that he was confident would work._

_John Solomon informed several werewolves of the risks (and rewards for their community) of being involved in the tests, and underwent several rituals during the lunar eclipses of January 2018. The attempts were all successful in seven werewolves, as he knew they would be. Solomon tried his hand once more; In July 2018, he was successful again. The seventy-seven werewolves he recruited were all cured, are all still alive, and none of them have transformed under any other full moons. They will be in attendance to inform you of the success of the operation. There is no risk: John Solomon's work is true. Celebrate: Werewolves can now be cured._

_John Solomon knows, regrettably, that the magical world will not believe his accomplishments, and he does not wish to suffer the same fate as his predecessor, Oddolweld, for then nobody would be able to perform the ritual with quite the same. And so this festival is a secret—only werewolves may unlock this note. Until it is unlocked, it appears as a mere clipping from the Daily Prophet. But once every werewolf in England is cured, John Solomon's work will be made public._

_-back-_

Breathing very heavily and rapidly, Albus next opened the reading entitled "The Transportation."

_Write your location in the space below._

Under this, Exo had hastily scribbled "Hogwarts."

_The nearest Portkey to you is:_

_Forbidden Forest_

_Take this paper with you and touch the word NAVIGATE below. You will be directed to the location where, on the night of the Lunar Eclipse Festival, the Portkey will be placed for you to take. Your Portkey leaves at exactly:_

_5:17_

_We hope this will give you enough time so, once the lunar eclipse has begun and you are back to your human form, that you may escape whatever confines are placed upon you by your loved ones and reach the Portkey. If you miss your Portkey and cannot attend the festival, have no fear—the world will be notified of John Solomon's work after the successful festival. However, it may take many years for the work to be approved, despite our 100% confidence that the method used has no adverse effects, and so we insist that you attend now and save yourself dozens of transformations and years of sickness._

_-NAVIGATE-_

_-back-_

Albus went back to read the last section, named "The Requirements."

_Once you sign your name on this paper, the other words on this pamphlet will be unlocked. If there is no name signed, nothing but this section will be displayed on this paper. It is necessary for security. Once you have signed, if you intentionally relay the information of the ritual to any persons, through writing, words, actions, or the voluntary conferral of this flyer to individuals who are not werewolves, immediate death will set upon you. Again, the festival will likely be disbanded by skeptics if the information is spread to those who are not werewolves, and so this precaution is a necessity._

_Please sign your name below. If this pamphlet is being shared by more than one werewolf, please both sign your names so that we may have an accurate count of attendance._

Exo had signed his name, and Albus felt his heart skip about ten beats. What if Exo leaving this paper here had counted as conferring the information to Albus? By reading it, had Albus killed his friend?

And then he heard rapid footsteps, and his brain being dizzy from so much information, he didn't take it into account in time, and Exo had already shouted the password and burst into the common room, and was staring at Albus holding his paper.

O

As happy as Albus was that Exo hadn't been killed by the binding contract, it seemed as if their friendship was over. Exo wasn't just ignoring Albus—he was actively avoiding his old friend, and he threatened violence whenever Albus tried to speak to him.

Albus was so shocked by all that he had learned that he completely forgot there was a Quidditch match going on until it was over. Apparently it was a fast match—James had lost to the same Seeker, Darryl Minuen, who had beaten him last year. Last year, Minuen had a better broom, so James, over Christmas, was gifted a Sheerer 720, matching his adversary's ride. But this year, Minuen had again received a better broom, the Sheerer 1080, and according to any Gryffindor who was asked, this was the only reason Slytherin had won. James was beyond furious again.

Exo was not present at breakfast the next day, and Albus made up his mind. He gathered up some food, went around to each of the other three House tables and got his other friends, and they all brought some food to the library to discuss the matter.

"You know that if Madam Kohl catches us in here with food, she's going to pop a vein," said Aidan nervously. "And she'd probably pop all OUR veins, too…"

"So what's going on?" asked Eftan. "You've been looking since yesterday like you're expecting someone to die. Why weren't you at the Quidditch match to watch your brother get his butt handed to him?"

"I need to talk to you guys," said Albus gravely, "about Exo."

The tone in his voice silenced all of his friends, and he continued. He explained everything that he'd read, swearing them to secrecy. He's have kept it a secret himself, but he was seriously worried about his friend and feared that this "Lunar Eclipse Festival," whatever it was, would put his friend in danger.

"I don't know about that, Albus," said Aidan, visibly shivering. "I don't like the sound of this whole festival thing. There is no cure for the werewolf condition."

"But I think Exo is going to go for it no matter what the chances are," said Albus. "I heard him yell to his father that he'd rather be dead than continue living with the condition."

There was a pause in the conversation as Albus let this sink in.

"That's ridiculous," said Eftan. "It must have just been an outburst, he was probably really angry at the time. Exo can't possibly want to die just for what happens to him once a month."

"One time, I heard my mum telling my dad that she feels like death once a month," piped up Alec. "She never explained what she meant when I asked her, though…"

Ignoring Alec, Aidan continued. He seemed agitated. "Albus, I really don't think this is a good idea," he said. "Why would this John Solomon guy have hidden while he was developing this so-called 'cure?' It simply doesn't make sense."

"I don't know about that," said Albus. "The argument in the flyer made sense."

Aidan shook his head. "It seems like he just 'went missing' as a ruse to avoid retribution for any mistakes he made," he argued. "Mistakes like Oddolweld made, thinking he could cure the werewolves and instead killing them. If this guy is legitimate, then the cure will obviously not stay a secret forever, so Exo should just wait it out until it's confirmed. This is so shady, so… ominous. I can't believe Exo would actually consider this."

"Have you talked to Exo about it?" asked Eftan.

"I have not," said Albus. "I think the contract would kill him if he said anything about it to me, which is probably…" His eyes widened. "That's probably why he's been avoiding me like the plague."

"Or he really does hate you for spying," suggested Alec.

Aidan rolled his eyes. "Albus, you have to keep a really close eye on him, okay?" he ordered, sounding a lot like Professor Desulgon. "I think Exo's going to try to sneak out. You should probably tell his father, too."

"No," said Albus immediately. "No, I'm not doing that."

"Why?" protested Aidan.

"Because Exo hates how much his father interferes," said Albus. "I feel like, if Wilcox stopped Exo from attending the ritual for what could possibly be the cure, then Exo would probably never forgive his dad."

"But what if the opposite happens?" said Aidan. "What if something terrible happens to everyone who attended, and Wilcox stopped his son from going, and Exo realizes how much good his father has done by protecting him?"

Albus closed his eyes, trying to argue back. He wasn't arguing that Exo should go, but he thought that it would be best if Exo's friends talked him down rather than Wilcox, because it seemed clear that Exo was not going to listen to his father.

"I think, if something terrible happens, Exo is going to realize that his father's caution is necessary, whether or not it was actually his father who stops him from going," he said, opening his eyes. "Exo knows his father would never let him attend this festival."

Eftan shrugged. "Aidan, I think Albus is right. Exo shouldn't be going to this thing, but if Wilcox knew what his son was considering, it would probably change their relationship drastically… for the worse, for the much worse."

"I think we should leash Exo to a tree on the day of the lunar eclipse so he can't go," interjected Alec. "Sorry," he added, upon the irritated glares of his friends.

"I understand why he's so desperate, though," said Aidan. "It's not like I think he's being an idiot. The sort of stuff you hear…"

"What exactly _is_ all this stuff everyone keeps saying they hear?" asked Alec, voicing the question that Albus had been just about to ask. "People keep talking about the things they've been hearing, but I haven't been hearing anything."

"You don't read the _Daily Prophet_, do you," sighed Aidan.

"Read more than we have to?" asked Alec, an eyebrow vaulting.

"Of course not," said Aidan, rummaging through his bag. "Well, _I_ do. And there's some… unsettling stuff in it today."

He unfolded a copy of the paper, bannered with the large headline:

_MUGGLE KILLINGS OF WIZARDS AT HIGH SINCE GLOBAL REVELATION_

"Killings… at a _high_?" asked Albus, shocked. "But… how can that be? I thought, the longer we were around, the more they'd get used to us… the more they'd realize, we weren't to be feared."

"Yeah, well, most people got that," said Aidan. "The problem is, now that we're a while into our new world, the resistance is getting organized. Insane Muggle religious sects believe we are the manifestation of the devil on Earth, and that they must attack us at every opportunity, for the good of mankind, to take the Earth back for God."

Albus shook his head. "Why haven't we heard more about this?"

"You would have, if you read the papers," huffed Aidan. "This isn't exactly the sort of thing one would expect to hear in a random Herbology class. Where else are you going to hear it?"

"I don't know… Current Events?" suggested Albus. "The optional class that talks about what's happening right now?"

"I guess it's not the sort of thing for twelve-year-olds to hear," said Aidan somberly. "And I get it. This is awful. I don't want to hear it, but it's what's going on, and I want to know what's going on."

Albus flipped through the pages of the newspaper. Murders back and forth between Muggles and wizards reported in every country? Threats by at least one subset of almost every major religious denomination? What was going on? This was not the world he'd imagined was just outside his house and Hogwarts. This did not sound like the twenty-first century.

But he had to come face-to-face with the reality of the situation: here he was, flipping through today's newspaper, and the first eight pages were about deaths and terrorism and hatred and threats and everything horrible he could imagine.

"Look at page nine," said Aidan, flipping again.

_WEREWOLF FAMILY OF FOUR FOUND DEAD IN HOME_

The story explained how this was not a Muggle killing—there were signs of a magical duel. Someone—a wizard—had gone after this family and killed all of them, including two young children. And the killer was walking free and his identity was unknown. What would this mean for home security?

"It's not the first story like this," said Aidan. "Too many werewolf families have been murdered for it to be mere coincidence. People are starting to say there's an explanation that the Ministry isn't giving us. And, as you've noticed from the other pages you've read, ours isn't the only government that's experiencing a hassle. The less crazy Muggles are just as bad as the crazy ones; they're petitioning for magical solutions to everything, claiming that with our ability to help them, we have a responsibility to help them. People like your father, Albus, are arguing that if wizards interfere in Muggle progress, that their progress will be halted forever—and then Muggles argue back that they'll still keep trying to improve their own lives, but in the meantime, there are millions of people suffering because we're not helping. It's madness, all of it."

Albus placed the _Prophet_ down just to stop himself from reading any more; it was highly distressing.

"Not reading it doesn't stop it from having happened, or from happening," said Aidan quietly.

Alec and Eftan had backed out of the conversation and were just staring at the floor. It was a very stare-at-the-floor kind of mood.

In fact, it was a very stare-at-the-floor kind of month, and the effects carried over to December. Without the thought of the midyear exams to keep him preoccupied, Albus was tortured by the thoughts of two very contrasting possibilities: one of Exo leaving and coming back completely cured and finally happy… and the other of Exo leaving and never coming back.

* * *

_**Special thanks to guest "Aria" for suggesting that Albus pick up a copy of the **_**Daily Prophet**_** as a way to glimpse what the world is like outside of what he knows. If you have other suggestions, feel free to message me! (Or review if you're a guest.) I'll definitely consider it unless it conflicts with future plot points.**_

_**See you all next week!**_


	7. The Werewolf Hunter

CHAPTER SEVEN

THE WEREWOLF HUNTER

O

"Albus, _are you all right?_"

Albus broke away from his thoughts and nodded, realizing all at once that his father had asked him that question multiple times, and was getting more and more worried each time. "I'm… tired," he lied. "I didn't get a good sleep last night."

Harry relaxed a bit back in his chair. "Okay. Pass the potatoes, please."

Albus passed them, trying not to sink back into his troubled thoughts. He didn't want his father to pick up that there was something wrong; that would necessitate explaining what it was that was concerning him, and if he didn't want to viciously lie, he would have to keep an unreadable face so that the question wouldn't come in the first place. He smiled.

"That's better," said Ginny. "Come on, you're home for Christmas, you have to smile! I know we're all tense right now, but home is just the place to leave that tension behind."

"How was the first half of your second year?" asked Harry eagerly. "Doing as well as your first?"

"I sure am," said Albus, casting over himself a shroud of contentment, hoping his parents wouldn't realize that his happiness was fake. "I can't wait to get back, but I am really relieved to be home for Christmas, too!"

He thought this over, and decided it was true. He _was_ very glad to be back. In any other situation, he would have been downright cheerful. But the fact remained that, once they returned to the school, it was only a little over two weeks until the lunar eclipse. Returning to school was two weeks away, but that still left under a month before Albus had to make the decision: whom did he tell?

"I can't believe Christmas Eve is tomorrow," said Ginny in a clear effort to be overtly cheerful. "Can you, kids?"

"Did you hear Exo's a werewolf?" blurted James excitedly. He had clearly been waiting all dinner for a chance to say something, and this had to have been it. Apparently he had given up waiting for the moment to come, and just shouted it anyway. "Exo Wilcox?" he added, in case it hadn't been clear.

Harry let his head fall into his hands. "_Yes_, James, we heard. Your mother and I heard eight years ago when it happened."

Albus ran through a short calculation. "Exo was four when he was attacked?"

"By Fenrir Greyback," said Harry, sighing. Then he turned to Ginny. "Speaking of whom… there's been another sighting of him, did you hear?"

"Of Greyback?" asked Ginny, startled. "No, when was this? Last year?"

"There was another sighting," said Harry. "In the same general area. We might know where he's hiding out."

"Where?"

"Hogshire… a small town just down the road from Hogsmeade."

"That close to Hogwarts?" asked Ginny, even more surprised. "How is he getting there?"

"We can't be sure," said Harry. "And I really don't know why he keeps coming back and risking capture, unless…"

"What?"

Harry leaned over the table and said very quietly, "Unless he's visiting someone. Perhaps family."

"You think _Fenrir Greyback_ started a family?" noted Ginny skeptically.

"I think it's possible," said Harry. "Not especially likely, but… why else would he keep putting himself in harm's way? We're going to have to get scouts. If we see Greyback in the area again, we'll have to question any werewolves in the area. It's going to be much more difficult now, with the Lupin Act forbidding registration of werewolves…" He smiled weakly.

"Do you know any possibilities right now?"

"I'd given it some prior thought," said Harry. "But I don't know anyone in Hogsmeade or Hogshire or any other close towns who has werewolf relatives."

"Oh."

"And besides, I don't think Greyback is going to be returning any time soon," said Harry gravely.

"What?"

Harry's tone made the entire table nervous.

"We're finally allowed to disclose this," said Harry quietly, and he leaned back in his chair. "Ivan Siobor… the serial killer who's been reported in the _Prophet_ for some time now… He's been hunting werewolves."

Any dread left to be gained by Albus at this point was attained.

"Auchland had postulated this since summer," said Harry, "but we didn't want a panic on our hands from the werewolf community… or any extra fuel for the fire that is Muggle attacks. At this point, though, it seems like there's no stopping the connection from getting out; we've reported most of the victims."

"Got any sightings of Siobor?" asked Ginny tentatively.

"Not a one," said Harry wearily. "You'd think _someone_ would have survived to tell the tale, _someone_ would have fought him off, but… no. Siobor is a master duelist. He doesn't even wait for the full moon to weaken his victims before he goes after them. And it generally looks like a one-sided fight. We've got our hands full with this werewolf hunter."

Most of the last two months for Albus had been spent in a haze of tension, and after this dinner conversation with his parents, he was once again subjected to what he thought he'd escaped: fear. Total, utter dread for his friend; and for the state of the world which, just a season ago, he'd thought was finally coming to its senses. As it turned out, that was not the case. His guardians had just sheltered him from the worst. And this brought up more questions. Was even the _Daily Prophet_ underplaying what was going on? How bad was it, really?

He decided he didn't want to find out. For once, he didn't want to know.

O

But as much as he didn't want to pursue the subject, he had to know one thing. He had to know how likely it was that the Lunar Eclipse Festival was legitimate.

On Christmas Day, sitting in front of all of his unwrapped gifts and feeling much less Christmas spirit than usual, he turned to his father and asked his question.

"Can werewolves be cured?"

"No," said Harry simply.

Albus nodded.

"I'm sorry, I know you'd like to think that a cure may be invented someday," said Harry. "For Exo, right? It's just not possible, though, I don't want to get your hopes up."

"But what about the work that the wizard Oddolweld did?" said Albus.

Harry dropped the book he was reading.

"Excuse me?"

The tone of the response frightened Albus so much that he considered not continuing his inquiry, but he had already started.

"I—I just meant, didn't Oddolweld come really close to developing the cure?" said Albus.

"If you call killing seven people 'coming close,' then yes, I suppose he came very close," said Harry, picking his book back up. "Where did you hear about Oddolweld?"

"A library book," lied Albus immediately. "I wanted to find out about werewolves…"

"Uh-huh," said Harry. "And whose permission did you get to enter the Restricted Section?"

"What?"

"That's not something they would have in a library book," said Harry, leaning forward towards Albus. "Not readily available, anyway."

"I…" Albus grasped randomly for an explanation that didn't have any loose ends, but he was failing terribly. He thought randomly that James would probably be able to lie better; James had a lot more practice.

"You didn't get it from the library," stated Harry. It wasn't a question, and it wasn't a guess. "Where did you hear this?"

"Okay, someone at school told me," said Albus quietly, hoping that Harry wouldn't ask who. "But… I mean, wouldn't it make sense that something could be done, since werewolves transform back during a lunar eclipse?"

"No, it wouldn't make sense. A werewolf is afflicted under the light of the full moon, and during a lunar eclipse, there is a shadow across the moon; it doesn't have nearly enough light to make the transformation happen. That doesn't mean you can cure a werewolf. Their condition lives in their bloodstream; to take it out is to kill them, we saw that with Oddolweld's work."

"I heard that someone cured a werewolf," blurted Albus before he could consider whether it was a good idea to say that.

"Rumors, sparked from the terror brought by the werewolf killings and the Muggle attitude," said Harry. "People will believe anything to give themselves hope… or to deny their fears. _Fudge_," he added in a mutter.

"I don't think it was a rumor," said Albus, getting irritated. Was he falling into the same pit as his father had just described—believing anything to give himself hope?

"And just how do you know that?" asked Harry, getting more and more suspicious.

Albus didn't reply right away.

"Never mind, don't answer that," said Harry tersely. "If the conversation so far is any indication, you'd just lie to me if I asked you how you knew. But just know that if there was a cure based upon the lunar eclipse, we would have found it by now. A long time ago, seeing how many people are desperate for such a cure… and it would have been extremely lucrative to find it. Lunar eclipses are not that far between. We have two a year, I think! Oddolweld is from before Hogwarts time, isn't he? Then there have been over two thousand lunar eclipses since his time! I _think_ we'd have found a cure by now."

Harry stared Albus down, ready to hear what Albus had to say in response.

Albus didn't break eye contact, letting his father know that he wasn't done arguing yet, but he tried to work out the phrasing before he continued. Finally, he decided on how to say it.

"One of my friends at school," he said, treading cautiously in his words, "said that they knew someone, a werewolf, who was cured in a lunar eclipse festival, and that another one was going to happen."

He cringed after he realized that he had revealed far too much: he shouldn't have told his father that another one was happening. But he was so deeply confident that this lunar eclipse festival was not a hoax… he didn't know why, but he was.

"No," said Harry, shaking his head. "I don't believe it. Who told you this?"

"I'd lie to you if you made me answer," answered Albus firmly.

He'd thought it was an amusing thing to say, given that his father had said the same thing a few moments ago, but Harry looked very angry, and Albus leaned back a little, as if Harry's wrath couldn't reach him, or was less powerful with distance.

"You will tell me how much you know about this, right now," said Harry. "What else do you know? Do you know when or where this is being held?"

"No," said Albus quickly; almost too quickly.

"You have no idea," said Harry, dragging his hands along the sides of his face, "how dangerous this could be. At best—_at best_—I'd say it's a hoax. Once the werewolves arrive, those who have somehow been suckered into believing this, they'll be asked for payment, and then they'll do whatever cure they're pretending to have and pretend that it worked; then everybody will go home and realize later that they're still transforming, or worse, die. At worst, the people running this thing are _intentionally_ murdering every werewolf who shows up. This could even be a set-up by Ivan Siobor. You know—the werewolf hunter…" Harry sighed.

Then, much to Albus's surprise, his father started laughing. He leaned back in his chair and shook his head.

"This… I'm taking this much too seriously. I need to relax. This is a rumor you heard at school? I sincerely doubt this is actually something that's happening. It's a friend of yours who's making up stories. I suggest you don't relay this to Exo." He shook his head again. "I _hope_ it's a friend making up stories."

Albus bit his lower lip and thought about what else he wanted to say.

"I'm sorry I was getting mad at you," said Harry, and he genuinely did look sorry.

There was another silence.

"Why _were_ you so sure it wasn't a rumor?" asked Harry.

"I, just… someone had…"

He huffed in frustration at his inability to come up with a decent way of expressing how he was sure, excluding using the truth.

"I need you to do me a favor," said Harry. "I want you to approach whichever person told you this, and ask them more about it."

"Why?"

"Because," said Harry slowly, "if they were making something up, they won't be able to answer more specific questions about it. If they heard it from someone else, I want you to track down the source. If they say they heard it from a reliable source, such as someone from the Ministry, you must write me what that source is and I will investigate."

"Why do you need to know?"

"Because, on the slight chance that this isn't a joke or a rumor, there's a great chance that this _festival_ is not what it seems. It could be extremely dangerous for all involved."

"But what if it's real, and the werewolves think that by intervening, you're demonstrating exactly why it's secret in the first place?" contested Albus. "If this is real, the Ministry would never let it happen because people like you think that it's a trap, and then you come in and stop the cure from happening?"

Harry paused to consider this.

"You would have a strong argument," he said after a moment's hesitation, "_if_ there was any chance at all that this is real… but it is _not_."

Albus's blood was boiling. He didn't know why, but he was absolutely confident that this was not a hoax, and the more his father argued against it, the more he stood firm in his convictions.

"You look angry, Albus," noted Harry concernedly.

"I just don't know why you think there's absolutely no possibility that—"

"We are _done talking about this_," interrupted Harry sternly, "until you know more about it. Please find out more about it. Then we can say whether the possibility exists."

Albus started to get up to leave.

"And ask Exo, too," added Harry.

"Why?"

"Because I'm worried about him. Because he's gone through so much, and I feel that if he knows about this rumor and gets his hopes up… he may not survive when his hopes come crashing down."

"Dad?"

"Yes?"

"How did Exo become a werewolf?"

Exo wasn't talking to him anymore; this much was clear. Albus could no longer stand being in the dark to the full story about his friend. Maybe there was something in the story that would help him understand better.

"I told you… he was attacked by Fenrir Greyback."

"But there's more to the story than that?"

"There is."

"I want to know."

"Did Exo tell you anything?"

"No."

Harry folded his fingers together and leaned closer to Albus, looking around for any sign of James.

"Would Exo be angry if he found out you knew?"

"I don't know," said Albus honestly.

"Have you asked him already?"

"Yes," sighed Albus.

"And he didn't tell you?"

"He didn't tell me, no."

"Did he get angry?"

"…Yeah."

"I shouldn't tell you," said Harry quietly.

"Okay," mumbled Albus, defeated.

"Well… I suppose it wouldn't hurt to tell you this one important part," muttered Harry. "Albus… you know about Helio Wilcox's wife, correct?"

"Wasn't she involved in the Dark Revival?"

"Yes, and Helio hasn't married since. I think he really did love Shawna. But he still dueled her when he found out she was a murderer. Er, murderess, I suppose. Never really understood why there are separate words… but there are a lot of things about the English language that I don't understand…" He seemed to be stalling.

"What about it?"

"Well, Fenrir Greyback was also involved in the Dark Revival," continued Harry; he was talking very slowly. "And he was very angry with Helio for taking out one of Gallen Ingot's top lieutenants. I think Greyback expected Helio to side with Ingot once he found out about his wife's allegiances, but that wasn't the case; Helio has a heart of gold. So even though Helio lost the duel to Shawna, when she was captured, Greyback blamed Helio for her capture—which is probably true; the two of them might have been able to fight us off enough to escape, if Helio had joined her. Even if Helio hadn't done anything, if he had just stepped back and let the Aurors take care of her, we might not have been able to subdue her. We never wished her dead, but that was an accident."

"Yes?" asked Albus, not seeing where this was going.

"You don't get it yet?" asked Harry. "Greyback blamed Helio for Shawna's death, and he wanted revenge."

"Exo was attacked… because his father fought against Gallen Ingot?" guessed Albus softly.

"That's right," said Harry, sighing. "Exo had just turned four years old when he and his—when he was attacked. Greyback waited four years to take his revenge, but when he did take it, it was absolutely brutal—he went for his foe's son. Greyback bit into Exo and dragged him out of the house—I'm not sure what the man was thinking, maybe he wanted to torture Helio with the thought that his son may or may not still be alive—but Greyback made two quite unforeseeable errors. Firstly, he chose the very day where John Solomon, a notable master of Defense Against the Dark Arts, had been staying at the Wilcox's residence. With Solomon's help, Helio retrieved his son before Greyback was able to kill him."

The name "John Solomon" made Albus jolt for a moment. Why hadn't he known this before? And there was another question he had about this…

"How did Greyback control his movements as a werewolf?" he asked, confused.

"He took Wolfsbane Potion," said Harry. "He took the potion, which allows one to control their actions after the transformation, and used this awareness to attack his enemy. But I still haven't gotten to the second big mistake that Greyback made; this one, he might have been able to foresee better if he'd known about it. A lunar eclipse occurred."

"A… a lunar eclipse?"

"A lunar eclipse," repeated Harry. "A shadow crossed the moon, and the stress and pain of the retransformation caused him to howl out, giving away his position to his trackers. He transformed back into a human, and was left naked and alone in the forest without his wand for the next two hours while the eclipse passed. But before it was over, he was discovered by Helio and John Solomon, who retrieved Exo alive—barely."

Albus's throat went dry. In his head, he filled in the part of the story that was missing—_And then John Solomon observed the way that Greyback had transformed under the lunar eclipse, and it reminded him of how he escaped on the night that he was attacked by Death Eaters, and he began to wonder whether a cure, connected to the lunar eclipse, was possible, and then he investigated into the possibilities, discovering the work of Oddolweld and then deciding to cure werewolves so that situations like Exo's would never happen again—_

"You're probably wondering why Fenrir Greyback is still on the loose, if they found him wandless in the woods," said Harry, incorrectly interpreting Albus's silence and astonishment. "He had an accomplice—Greyback had an accomplice, who found him just after Solomon and Helio had tracked the howl. She whisked him away by Apparition before he could be apprehended. And this… is why I believe it's possible that Greyback was visiting family at the instances where he was spotted. This accomplice may even have been his wife."

Albus barely even heard this. He was still mulling over the notion regarding John Solomon's motives for finding a cure to the Transfection of werewolves.

"I know, it's crazy, Fenrir Greyback having a wife," laughed Harry. "Probably not, though; if he had a wife, she'd probably be a werewolf, or he'd have bitten her if she wasn't. But who knows; love can make a person do many things they wouldn't normally do. …Anyway, what are your thoughts?"

Albus snapped back to his conversation with his father. "Didn't John Solomon go missing?"

"Yes," said Harry gravely. "We were wondering… if it was Greyback."

_It wasn't Greyback,_ thought Albus.

"You haven't heard anything from him at all?" asked Albus.

"Not a peep," said Harry sadly. "So sad. Such a great man. I still have a letter he wrote to me explaining how much he took inspiration from me, because our parents suffered the same awful fate. I keep it among my treasures in your mother's and my room. It touches me every time I read it… and now it's all I have left from him."

"Maybe he's not dead," said Albus, trying to give his father some sense of hope.

"Maybe," said Harry. "But… not likely." He sighed.

"More likely than a cure for werewolves?"

Harry finally smiled. "Yes, more likely than that. But still unlikely." He rubbed his eye, scratched his sideburn, and sighed again. "Helio still believes that Exo's condition is his fault."

Albus grimaced.

"He thinks that his acts put his children in danger, and that he didn't do a good enough job of protecting the ones he loved," explained Harry.

Something about that last sentence caught Albus's attention, but he couldn't figure out what it was…

"And he doesn't want to lose any more family," finished Harry. "He knows what it feels like to lose the people he cares about."

Albus was still trying to work out what had given him pause about the prior statement that his father had made.

"I don't know if I can keep discussing this," said Harry quietly. "It's bringing back some terrible memories. Christmas isn't the time to talk about this."

Albus nodded; he agreed. He slowly gathered up his pile of presents and brought them up to his room, where he promptly ignored every single one of them in favor of lying on his bed and staring at the ceiling.

Eventually, of course, he gave in to some of the Honeydukes chocolate from his grandparents. It was impossible not to give in to the Honeydukes.

O

"James," whispered Albus, shaking his brother gently out of his sleep.

"Wh—what? Al?" James rolled over sleepily in his bed to glance up. "What is it? House on fire?"

"No, I need you to help me break into Dad's things."

James sat up in bed. "Well, well. I'm proud of you, little sneak."

"Oh, quiet," said Albus, but he smiled. "You wouldn't happen to know how to get into Dad's private shelves, would you? The big dresser that stands near their bed, the one with all the locked shelves?"

"You kick it," said James. "It opens on an impact. I think you're supposed to hit it…" He stood up and mimed the kick to try to visualize it. "On the bottom right, just under the corner of the bottom drawer."

"How do you know that?" asked Albus, impressed.

"Why'd you ask if you didn't think I was going to know?" asked James, climbing back into bed.

"I thought you would just help me _figure out_ how to break in, or something," said Albus. "What've you already stolen from there?"

"Just a piece of old blank parchment," said James, smiling as his head hit the pillow again. "I needed to write a letter and I couldn't find any parchment…"

"Okay, thanks," said Albus, and he turned away to go break into the locked drawers in his parents' room while his father was at the Ministry and his mother was out getting more food.

He walked into his father's room hurriedly, half-expecting an alarm to go off at his entry, but there were no such defenses (surprising, in a house which contained James). He walked straight to the dresser in question and kicked it hard; there was a little click, and then all the drawers slid open.

He smirked and then sifted through the drawers, finding all sorts of items that he assumed were once valuable or meaningful—a lone black sock; a broken locket; a badge with the words _POTTER STINKS_ written on it, which flickered extremely weakly every once in a while; a battered old watch; and several other weathered treasures. Then he spotted an envelope in the back of one of the drawers, and he snatched it up quickly. He closed all the drawers, made sure that they were re-locked, and darted back to his room as he heard his mother tumble back in through the fireplace. He stuffed the letter in his backpack and walked down to meet her.

O

Albus unfolded the letter as he threw himself back onto his bed at Hogwarts. It was a very short winter break; he'd only had two so far, but he would have sworn that this break moved about a hundred times as fast as the last one. Now that he was sure not to get caught by his parents, it was finally time to read the letter he'd pilfered.

He pressed out John Solomon's letter to read it, and instantly recognized the handwriting—it was the same handwriting on the flyer for the Lunar Eclipse Festival. Thrilled and anxious, knowing this was one more step towards verifying the validity of the festival, he read slowly over the entire letter—and when he reached the final paragraphs, he did not even realize that his mouth was hanging open.

_I take so much inspiration from you. You were not even an adult when you began the battle against Voldemort, putting your own life at risk for the betterment of the world, and because you could not let the man who killed your parents walk free and continue to inflict the same fate upon others._

_Fenrir Greyback, of course, is no Voldemort. Nor are the other Death Eaters involved in the death of my parents. Though he has done so much wrong, I believe that all men can be saved somehow, and I seek not to kill the men who have done me wrong; I seek to save them. I do not know if this is possible, but if it is, then I will find a way. For now, I have decided to become an activist, preventing future generations from falling prey to the malicious charm of the Dark Arts. But I also am attempting to develop cures for the inflictions of Dark Magic, and other afflictions, including that of the werewolf condition. Yes, I know that investigating a cure for lycanthropy is considered a dead-end in medical magic, but I won't accept that until I determine it for myself; otherwise, how will any advances be made? I find the fact that one can only carry one Transfection to be very interesting, and suspect that breakthroughs may come from studying the case of Ted Lupin, who did not inherit the condition. Whatever I decide to do, or not to do, you can be certain that I will fight the Dark Arts wherever I can, and you can be certain that you will be hearing from me, because I look up to you from an angle that only people like you and me can see. I may contact you in the future for assistance—I hope this is not problematic for you in the future._

_Yours truly,_

_John Solomon_

_P.S. I dropped in on Helio today; he is coping, but just barely, without Shawna. Overall, he is doing about what we'd anticipated, for someone who just lost a wife, especially when the loss comes with the revelation that she was working for the enemy. He says he hopes you and your family are doing well, and his children ask me to tell you hello._

Albus clasped a hand to his mouth and began breathing rapidly, sharply, head spinning, world reeling.

Harry had left something out of his story; he hadn't said everything about what had happened the night that Greyback attacked. Albus knew that.

And in this letter, Solomon had written to Harry that "Helio's _children_ ask me to tell you hello."

But… Exo… was an _only child_.

He suddenly realized what had thrown him off about something his father had said—Harry had mentioned that Wilcox felt that he had put his _children_ in danger.

This was why Wilcox was so protective of Exo. This was why he was so concerned all the time, why he did whatever it took to do what he thought was best for his son.

Wilcox had already lost a child.

Exo had lost a sibling.

Albus refolded the letter, his heart pounding, and he placed it back among his things. He squeezed his eyes shut and felt a tear trickle down his cheek, and he knew why Exo had utterly refused to explain what happened on the night that he became a werewolf.

* * *

_**That's all for today-I can't believe that by next week, we'll be more than halfway through this book. I've already gotten the next chapter written, which is the first time I've been ahead of schedule in a while, so on this most recent Thursday, I decided to refine and upload my short fic which I wrote based on an event that occurs in between books one and two, just for fun. It's called "Dear Tabby." Check it out when you have the chance! Some things might make more sense.**_


	8. Solemnly Sworn

CHAPTER EIGHT

SOLEMNLY SWORN

O

"You're not going to like me saying this," said Aidan tentatively, "but I think your dad is right."

"Oh, we all knew you were going to say that," said Alec, "so don't worry, nobody really cares…"

"But I told you about the letter," argued Albus. "It's definitely John Solomon behind the pamphlet, and how can you say that _Solomon_, one of the biggest anti-Dark activists out there, is after the blood of all the werewolves?"

"That's not what I'm saying," said Aidan. "But it still might be true… I mean, he did lose his parents to a werewolf who purposefully tried to kill them. Maybe this is just a ruse to get Fenrir Greyback into the open?"

"Here, you should read the letter for yourself," said Albus, passing the envelope across the library table to his friend. "I don't think you'll believe that after you listen to him talk for himself."

"You can't listen to a letter," remarked Alec.

Albus glanced around. "Where's Eftan? I thought he was supposed to be here by now."

"Oh yeah, Eftan said to tell you that he's studying with Sylvester," said Alec.

"You could have told me this earlier," grumbled Albus. "What're they studying?"

"Abby Quinn, I think," replied Alec, grinning.

Albus rolled his eyes. "Why do you say that?"

"Who wouldn't want to study Abby Quinn?"

"Do you ever think before you talk?"

"Thinking is a waste of time."

"You're a waste of time," growled Albus.

Alec sank into a glare.

"Seriously, though," said Albus. "Could you try being less—less—?"

"I just don't really know about all this," said Aidan, handing back the letter. He then looked back and forth between Albus and Alec, apparently not having noticed that something was going on between them.

"You finished it already?" asked Alec, gaping. "This letter is _obscenely_ long. You must have skimmed."

"I read fast," said Aidan. "That's what eventually happens once you start reading."

"You all just think I'm absolutely stupid, don't you?" shouted Alec, jumping up in his seat; but the gap between his seat and the table was too narrow, and he smacked his chest against the table, falling back into his chair in a grimace.

Aidan and Albus both stifled laughs, and then tried their best to diffuse the situation by returning to their original argument.

"If someone was pretending to be Solomon, they'd definitely have thought to copy his handwriting," said Aidan, "so I don't really think the matching handwriting means anything."

"But his letter to my dad—what is this, ten years ago? It says that he's studying the cure, so that makes it so much more likely that it really is him."

"It just doesn't make sense at all, though—the whole thing about him disappearing so that he could study the cure to werewolves? Why would he disappear, why wouldn't he just get funding? How can he expect anyone to believe him, if his work hasn't been verified by anyone?"

"I believe him."

"I still don't know what's got you so convinced, since you fervently deny the possibility that you're deluding yourself."

"It's _not_ a delusion," protested Albus. "I don't know why, but just… reading that pamphlet, I knew that what was written was true. I don't know how to explain it. It's not just me hoping there's a solution and convincing myself that this is it."

"Let me give you a little more doubt, then," said Aidan. "What if there's a different reason that John Solomon disappeared before sending these pamphlets around? What if he was kidnapped, and forced to write these letters as a trap?"

"You're kidding, right?" said Albus, trying to laugh off the thought that this was a possibility.

"I'm not kidding," said Aidan. "He could be under the Imperius Curse."

"The Imperius Curse can be fought, and Solomon is a master of Defense Against the Dark Arts," countered Albus.

"All right," Aidan admitted. "But remember the mulunctapol you found, and the conversation we had with Professor Longbottom about the MM, the Marionette's Medicine? There's no way to fight that. What if these are the people with MM?"

"I totally forgot about that whole thing," said Albus honestly… so much had overshadowed it. He supposed that if there had been anything important discovered about the origins of his mulunctapol, he would have heard about it—or, maybe not. Maybe, like the Werewolf Hunter, this wasn't something that the Ministry was going to tell everyone. Now that he knew this was a possibility, it was actually rather frightening. He wondered what else they weren't being told.

"My point is that we can never be sure that this is safe. It'd be so much better for so many reasons if Exo just waited until this is confirmed. Can he really not just deal with the transformation for the few months it would take England to notice that some of its werewolves have been cured—if this is for real?"

"I think it's really painful for him," said Albus. "I think he suffers a lot."

"It's not as bad as getting killed would be," growled Aidan.

"Okay," said Albus. "But Exo is convinced, like I am, that this festival isn't a hoax. What am I supposed to say to him, or his dad?"

Alec cleared his throat.

"Obviously," he said, "Exo is having a hard time with the transformations, but he's having a harder time dealing with his overprotective father. He thinks that if he rebels against his father by attending the festival, and he's _right_ that it cures him, then he can show Wilcox that he can make his own decisions, and make it clear that he knows what's best for himself better than his commanding father. You'd probably need to address that point if you're going to convince him not to attend the festival… I'd suggest letting him know that, if he doesn't go, eventually this power struggle will be over anyway when the cure becomes publicly available, so it's not worth the risk now."

Albus and Aidan both gawked at Alec.

"What?" declared Alec. "I _am_ listening and trying to think of something, even if it doesn't seem like it."

"It doesn't," stated Aidan.

"I'm working on it," murmured Alec meekly.

O

Albus gave Alec's advice a lot of thought, and decided it was the best they had. But no matter where he tried to corner Exo over the following week, the headmaster's son still managed to evade him. He knew Exo couldn't talk about the pamphlet without dying due to the curse carried in Exo's signature, but every time he started with "You don't have to say anything," Exo moved faster than James after a prank, and was nowhere to be seen.

Fed up with being avoided when he was only trying to help, Albus called an emergency meeting with his closest friends during the Ravenclaw-Slytherin Quidditch match, which was held a week and a day before the Lunar Eclipse Festival.

As the players soared into the air, Albus, Aidan, and Alec crawled over legs and stands to reach Eftan, who was standing with Sylvester.

"Hey, can we talk?" asked Albus softly to Eftan.

"Talk?" said Eftan, slightly surprised. He looked over to Sylvester, who was cheering on Darryl Minuen until he looked over and saw the group of friends talking to Eftan, and he lifted an eyebrow at his purposeful exclusion.

"We… don't really know Sylvester as well," said Albus, even quieter. "Would you mind heading further back in the stands without him?"

"Er…" Eftan shrugged. "Okay, I guess."

He got up to leave, and Sylvester rose up, too.

Eftan reddened a bit. "Er, sorry, Sylvester, but…"

Sylvester glared at Aidan (not at anyone else), but sat back down.

As they climbed up the stands towards the back, which was farther away from the action, but was still loosely populated by the occasional stressed fifth, sixth, or seventh year, hastily scratching down essays.

"So, what's up?" said Eftan. "And why couldn't we disclose this to Sylvester?"

"He doesn't really hang out with us or Exo much," said Albus.

"He still hates Aidan for whatever reason, doesn't he," observed Alec.

"He still doesn't know why, but yes," said Eftan with a small smile. "Sorry, Aidan."

Aidan shrugged. "I guess people tend to envy you when you've got smarts like these."

"It might be because you're cocky as all hell," offered Alec.

"Anyway," said Albus, trying to get them all back on track, "we're here because of Exo."

"The festival?" asked Eftan; the three others nodded.

"I don't like the thought of that," said Eftan, folding his arms and staring back at the Quidditch match, instinctively pumping a fist when Slytherin scored, as Alec shouted bad advice to the Ravenclaw keeper and Captain, Hilda Wallace.

"I think it's for real," said Albus. "Just an inexplicable feeling of assuredness that I got from reading the flyer. But I don't know if we can stop Exo from going without telling his father, which… I just don't want to do."

"I understand your concern," said Eftan. "It's just a fairly unsettling decision to make, in case Exo's life is possibly on the line…"

"And that's why I think I have a plan," said Albus, eyes twinkling.

"You do?" said Aidan and Alec together, tilting their heads in unison. Albus hadn't told them yet about the idea which had just popped into his head yesterday.

"I do," said Albus, his heart racing. Until now, it had been just an idea, just a notion he'd entertained in amusement. But now, saying it to his friends, it was about to be a real possibility, and it was so dangerous and thrilling a prospect that he began to get jittery even as he said it. "We're going to follow Exo to the festival. We're going to go with him and make sure he's safe."

"You're kidding," said Aidan, his face slowly descending into shock. "You can't be serious. He can't be serious, right?" he implored to the other two.

"I'm serious," said Albus excitedly.

"Albus, how are we going to get _him_ to agree to this?" asked Alec.

"And even if he does, how the heck are four second years going to protect him?" fretted Eftan.

"We're not going to get him to agree to this, we're going to sneak along and join him unseen," said Albus. "And we're going to protect him by making sure nobody sees _us_, either."

"I think it'll take more time than we have to learn Disillusionment Charms," noted Aidan. "Like, five years more."

"We don't have to learn Disillusionment Charms when we have an Invisibility Cloak," said Albus, grinning wildly.

The response was excellent, better than he'd anticipated. Eftan clapped his hands to his mouth, looking both ecstatic and terrified; Alec grabbed hair on both sides of his head and yelled "OHMYGOD THAT'S RIGHT YOUR DAD HAS AN INVISIBILITY CLOAK," and Aidan looked like he'd been stabbed in the chest and moaned, "We're all going to die!"

Eftan slid his hands slowly down his face. "Did you steal your dad's Cloak when you were home for Christmas?"

"No, James has the Cloak," said Albus. "I just need to ask him to borrow it!"

"Wait, is it really going to cover all five of us?" asked Aidan, seizing onto the first doubt he could find in the plan.

"Oh. We may have to crouch," said Albus. "Well, you and Exo are small. And who cares if our feet are visible? It's taking place in a pasture, I think we'll be in grass."

"Then people will see the grass moving!" hissed Aidan.

"ZABINI SCORES! Forty to ten, Slytherin, that makes three goals in the last minute alone for Slytherin, they're really turning up the heat."

Eftan pumped a fist again, and Alec shouted rude things at the Slytherin players. Albus squinted. "Is that one of the girls from our year?"

"Jasmine Zabini?" asked Eftan. "Yeah, she went on the team because the original Chaser in her spot was awful last game."

"Can we talk about Albus's insane plan, guys?" pleaded Aidan. "Do you guys really think this is a good idea?"

"I think it's a great idea, comparing it to the fact that everything else we've considered is a horrible idea," said Alec.

"I hate to say it, but it's probably the best we've got," admitted Eftan.

"Seriously?" whined Aidan. "We're going to die, all of us!"

"What do you think is going to go on there?" appealed Albus. "You think they're going to just start firing random killing curses into the air? We'll go there, make sure it's really Solomon and he's really going to start curing people, and we'll keep Exo safe…"

"How will we know if it's safe to let him join the crowd?" raged Aidan.

"We might not," agreed Albus. "But if we're _there_, we can always Body-Bind him or something if we're not sure. It's all the safety of not going, but also with the possibility that he could come back cured. And then, when this thing is over and it comes out that Solomon has cured werewolves, Exo can tell his father that he was there at the festival, but that his friends stopped him from participating, and then he can still hold that over his dad's head."

"But then he might get mad at us," said Eftan.

"So, worst case scenario here is, Exo's mad at us. Worst case scenario without the plan, he's dead."

"When you put it that way," said Alec, "it's hard to argue."

Aidan pulled at Albus's arm, and he held up a hand to the other two; they nodded as Aidan dragged Albus further down the stands.

"Aidan—"

"Quiet," insisted Aidan. "I'll do it. If you're going to do this, then I'll do it, too."

"You will?" said Albus, his heart skipping a beat.

"But I'm not doing it for the same reasons that you are, and I wanted to let you know that," said Aidan. "And I didn't want to tell _them_, I don't want them knowing that I still don't agree with your logic, since they're all on your side."

"Then… what's _your_ reasoning for going?" inquired Albus, confused.

"Because if everyone at that festival dies, no one is ever going to know what happened," explained Aidan quietly. "And even if anyone survives, that pamphlet is going to make sure that no one ever does find out, because anyone who talks about it will die, if what you told me is true. But if we go, we'll be witnesses."

Albus's eyes widened as Aidan spoke.

"That's why I'm going," said Aidan. "Even if this festival _is_ with good intent, there's still a chance that Solomon's fear of killing everyone is the reason that he isn't acting within the laws. And judging by the fact that this is a possibility, we can't let Exo join the crowd and attempt the cure. Even if all other signs would indicate that Solomon really can do what he says he can do. We can't let Exo go. That's my condition, or I'm going to Wilcox the second you refuse."

Albus's eyes narrowed again, and one of them twitched by itself.

"Well, since you're not offering me much of a choice, I guess I'll have to accept," consented Albus.

Inside, though, he was considering a third option: they were already considering Body-Binding Exo; what was stopping them from doing the same to Aidan?

"Excellent," said Aidan, though something in his eye suggested that he was suspecting Albus's ulterior motives for agreeing. "Then you can tell them all that the plan is on… if, a week from now, we still think it's a good idea."

Albus nodded, and turned back to the Quidditch match just as another goal was scored by Slytherin, widening the score gap to nearly a hundred. They walked back to the others and let them know that the plan was on.

O

Ravenclaw caught the Snitch in that game, but Slytherin still came out victorious. Slytherin's Chasers and Keeper were all so brilliant that they had gone ahead by two hundred and ninety points, and Ravenclaw decided to cut their losses. Eftan was again insufferable, and Alec was again highly irritable. But Albus could not settle down over the following week.

On the Friday before the festival, there was another ruckus caused by the now-infamous Loki, Pokey, Polo, and Pent. The door of an unused classroom on the second floor had blown open, and snow was streaming out of it at such high speeds that it was flying to all floors. Again, nobody knew how it had happened, and nobody knew how to fix it. When the teachers finally managed to slam a blockade against the opening to curb the snowdrifts, another door three floors above had blown open immediately with the same effects. Upon the suppression of this second situation, a third door had started acting up. It had taken an incident on every floor before it all stopped, and the teachers breathed easily before it apparently happened again in the middle of that night.

And on the following day, the festival only two nights away, Albus knew it was time to ask his brother. They would need to borrow James's Invisibility Cloak, or they would have to find a way to stop Exo from going to the festival.

It was a Saturday morning, and most people were out on the grounds, or studying, or hanging out in hot spots around the castle, or else eating at odd hours, and thus there was hardly anyone left in the common room. So, when James walked in to take a hot cocoa break before his second round of snowball fights, Albus saw his chance and took it.

Gavin, Marco, James, and Barry walked in still covered in packed snow, and Albus walked over to pull James's shirt as he stood in front of the fire.

James turned. "What's up, Al?"

"I need a big favor," he said. "Do you mind coming with me for a moment?"

James shrugged. "Fine by me," he said, as the others prepared their drinks. "Yo, Barry, make mine, too, I'd have to wait for it to cool a little anyway. Wally Draigle's Instant Boiling Water always burns my mouth anyway."

"No problem," said Barry, ripping open a packet of cocoa.

"Cocoa or tea, Al?" asked James as he followed Albus towards the entrance to the fourth years' dorms.

"No, but thank you," said Albus. "Can I borrow the Invisibility Cloak?"

James appeared very surprised by this. "Well—sure, I guess I can lend it to you. Whatever for?"

"Nothing important," said Albus quickly. "Just… mischief, you know."

James smiled. "I have to believe you," he laughed. "Fine, you little rascal, you can have it. Only for today, though."

"We need it for the whole weekend," said Albus.

"What do you mean, 'we?'" asked James. "See, you should never give away any details to your troublemaking. I know it's just me, but you should always practice being discreet. And why do you need it until Sunday?"

"Monday," corrected Albus.

James rolled his eyes. "You're tactless, bro, no offense; you just basically told me that it's Sunday night, whatever you're doing. You've got a lot to learn, but then I suppose I have an obligation to help you along the way. Sure, you can borrow it until Monday, but don't you dare get it confiscated, I need it back!"

"Why do you _need_ it?" asked Albus.

James laughed. "Trying to scrutinize me back, eh? I suppose that's only fair, it's part of the game. We'll get you the Cloak now."

They walked into the fifth years' dorm, and up to James's bed. James opened his trunk, and the Invisibility Cloak was sitting on top.

"You just leave it on the top of your trunk?" sighed Albus. "In plain sight to anyone who opens it?"

"Not usually, but I just used it," muttered James, grabbing the Cloak, and Albus's eyes narrowed as he formed a small connection in his mind between the knowledge that James "just used" the Cloak, and the fact that it was the day after an incident with Loki, Pokey, Polo, and Pent.

And then, as James pulled the Cloak out from the trunk, something wrapped inside it tumbled softly to the ground: a piece of parchment, folded over countless times, with detailed illustrations covering its surfaces and little moving dots all over its pages.

Albus was quicker to react; he suspected that, ironically, the Invisibility Cloak had obstructed James's view of the apparently valuable item that he had dislodged from his suitcase. Albus snatched it from the ground right before James got there, and he backed up against the wall and gaped at what was in front of him.

It was a map—a map of the entire castle, and little dots labeled with names were scurrying all around, their locations clearly on display.

James grabbed the map and pulled, but Albus held tight.

"What's this?" he said eagerly.

"None of your business," shot James, and he pulled at the map again, tugging it out of Albus's grip; Albus caught a glimpse of the front of the map, where a title was written; Albus only caught the first half-dozen words, but it was enough.

_Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs_

Connections formed themselves in Albus's head faster than he could even comprehend them.

"The Marauders," announced Albus, remembering the name used by Uncle Charlie to describe his grandfather's gang. "Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs. The original Marauders. You got the idea from them. _You're_ part of Loki, Pokey, Polo, and Pent! And that's why you were out with the Invisibility Cloak last night!"

"Man, I'm eating my own words," James groaned. "Don't give away any details to your mischief-making… and I just gave away the crux. Wow. Barry and Gavin and Marco are going to kill me."

"You four did all that pranking?" gasped Albus. "That was seriously good stuff!"

"Well, thank you," said James appreciatively. "Look, I'm going to have to beg on my hands and knees for you not to say this to anyone, aren't—"

"Wait, so who's who? Are you Loki?"

"No, Gavin is Loki," said James. "His name is Gavin Thoreau. 'Thor' was a god in Norse mythology, and his brother was 'Loki…' and Gavin has 'Thor' in his last name, so his code name is Loki."

"Then which one are you?"

"I'm Pokey," said James. "My Patronus is that spiky iguana thing, so we chose 'Pokey' because it rhymed with 'Loki' and it sounded good with the others… My name was chosen last, actually. We came up with 'Polo' first; that's Marco, Marco Murray. Apparently 'Marco Polo' is a game made up by Muggle children for use while swimming in a pool, since they apparently have nothing fun to do when they can't do magic. And 'Pent' is Barry, because he has four older brothers… he's the fifth kid in his family, you know, like the fifth side to a _pent_agon."

"Holy Merlin," said Albus, laughing. "So… what's _that?_"

"It helps a lot," said James. "Do I really have to tell you?"

"I know you stole it from Dad," said Albus smugly. "From those locked drawers. 'I've stolen a piece of old parchment from there.' Didn't you say it was a good idea not to give away any details to your troublemaking?"

"Wow, I'm totally getting a taste of my own medicine here."

"So unless you want me to tell Dad that you stole that parchment, you'd better tell me what it is," said Albus, putting his hands to his hips.

"You are such a little tattle-tale," said James. "But fine, you win. This is called the Marauder's Map… and not only is it an extensive map of Hogwarts, with interactive instructions on the navigation of the secret passages, but it also shows where everyone in the castle is, and what they're doing, at all times."

Albus's jaw fell so far he felt like it almost hit the floor.

"How the heck—that's the craziest thing I've ever heard! How does it do that?"

"No idea," said James. "But it hasn't been wrong yet, so I'm taking its word for it."

Albus's brain, recovering from the multitude of revelations he'd just experienced, started to process the information he'd just received, and a smile stretched across his face as he realized his advantage.

"I need that, too," he said, pointing at the map.

"What? Get your own map!"

"Either I get _that_ for the weekend, or Dad hears that you stole it," said Albus, folding his arms. "What'll it be? Lose the map for two days, or for forever?"

James shook his head. "How'd I get beat by my own little brother?" he said incredulously. "Okay. You win again. There's nothing I can do. Take the map, then."

He held out his hand, which had partially crumpled the map; but as Albus took it, it reformed in his hand, ridding itself of the wrinkle with no trace. He stared at it with a kind of wonder.

"How do I work it?" he asked.

James took the map back. "To turn it off and on, you gotta know the magic words," he said. "I kind of forgot to switch it off last time I used it, but I got back to the dorm in a bit of a hurry when I was followed by Desulgon, and it was dark and I just stuffed it all in my trunk… as you might have noticed."

He cleared his throat and cracked his neck back and forth.

"_Mischief managed._"

The map slowly faded to blank. It was indistinguishable from ordinary parchment.

"Here, you try it," said James. "You say, 'I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.'"

Albus nodded. "_I solemnly swear that I am up to no good._"

And the map sprang back to life, lines drawing themselves all over and covering the entire parchment with all of its flaps.

"That is so cool," said Albus. "_Mischief managed_. How did you learn the words?"

"The map helped me," answered James. "But that's a story for another day. I have to get back to my friends; we're going to get back to pelting each other with projectiles. Good luck with whatever you're doing. And don't you _dare_ get that confiscated!"

"I won't, I'll be invisible!" said Albus happily. He took a deep, excited breath, and draped the Cloak over himself.

He exited the dorm, and checked the map; James and his friends were listed in their exact locations, and he was moving slowly towards them. He already knew all this information, of course, but it was still fascinating to see the accuracy of the map. He felt a swell of pride in remembering that his grandfather had done this, and he wondered if James even knew that Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs were their grandfather's group of friends—he'd forgotten to mention it, and he wasn't sure whether James had ever found that out on his own.

He had been worried about whether or not they could track Exo efficiently _and_ silently. Presumably, he would be leaving his father's office when the eclipse started, since the Portkey didn't leave until after the eclipse was already underway, so that the werewolves would be human again to embark on the journey. But this map—it changed everything. Now he wouldn't have to worry about whether they lost Exo inside the castle—his location was going to be on the map at all times.

He stuffed the Invisibility Cloak and the Marauder's Map at the bottom of his own trunk, remembering to wipe the map beforehand, and smirking at the fact that he'd had more presence of mind than James in this matter.

O

He couldn't sit still for the rest of the day. Nothing he'd ever done had come with such possible consequences if he failed, and he had never been so terrified and energized at the same time. He was glad, for once, that Exo was completely and entirely ignoring him… otherwise, Exo might have noticed how strange Albus was acting.

So there were no more preparations to make. The festival was almost upon them. After explaining to his friends the addition of the map to their assets, all he could do was wait.


	9. The Lunar Eclipse

_**Hey everyone! It's Saturday again. And now I wanted to say something that's just awesome. Albus Potter and the Lunar Eclipse, though it was only slightly more than halfway uploaded, reached 100 reviews this past week. You guys are the best! And if you like my story, spread the word!**_

_**Also, I will continue to upload every Saturday, but I will ALSO upload either an extra chapter or another one-shot based on these characters, on Christmas morning, because you guys are such a great Christmas present to me and I need to share the love.**_

_**So, getting to the point... Fitting that we just hit 100 reviews: here is your most action-packed chapter yet! You know it's a good chapter when it bears the name of the book...**_

* * *

CHAPTER NINE

THE LUNAR ECLIPSE

O

Alec and Albus were as twitchy as fish out of water on Sunday, the eclipse being in under twenty-four hours. In contrast, Aidan and Eftan looked sicker than Exo.

Exo spent most of the day in his father's office, as revealed by the Marauder's Map, which was good so that he didn't see the group of four acting so suspiciously. They stayed together nearly the whole day, reiterating the plan again and again, along with all the possible ways it could go wrong and how to fix them.

"If Exo hears us?" asked Aidan.

"We all stop moving immediately if we make a sound we think is audible," replied Eftan. "When Exo starts moving again, so do we."

"If he shakes us off somewhere in the castle?" posed Albus.

"We keep going towards the courtyard," responded Alec. "One of us keeps an eye on the map to make sure of his location, and we try to intercept him."

"I still can't believe that map," said Aidan, his tone low. "That has got to be the most illegal thing… besides Dark magic… that anyone's ever brought in here."

"Remember last year, when my brother got the Howler?" asked Albus. "And my dad somehow knew that James, on his first week with the Invisibility Cloak, had gone into the girls' lavatory? I think my dad must have been checking the map that day so that he could make sure James wasn't doing anything too bad with the Cloak."

"I'd have done the same, except I would never have given your brother something with such potential for abuse as an Invisibility Cloak," chuckled Eftan.

"Well, look at the use _we're_ putting it to," said Alec. "I'd say this is pretty noble of us, and it never would have happened if your dad hadn't shut his brain off for long enough to think it was a good idea to give James the Invisibility Cloak."

"We still could have done it, there was just more room for error," said Albus. "Because what do we do if Exo discovers us and is running?"

"We Disarm his pamphlet from him," said Aidan.

"And we don't let him consult the flyer, so he can't find the Portkey," said Eftan.

"And we tie him up so he can't escape," said Alec.

"I don't recall planning that," queried Eftan.

"Alec's being Alec again," said Aidan. "Ignore him…"

"Being Alec is something I'd rather be being than being Aidan would be being," retorted Alec.

"Let's stop this conversation now before Alec hurts himself," laughed Albus. "We all need to be cooperative with each other if we're going to make this work."

He felt a deep pang of guilt as he remembered that he was going to have to betray the trust of at least one of his friends tonight. Aidan's ultimatum had stated that if they went at all, then they would have to ensure that Exo did not join the assemblage at the festival. But if no danger was presented to Exo, Albus wanted to help stop Exo's suffering, and he'd have to prevent Aidan from getting his way. He hoped that with whomever he ended up siding, the other wouldn't hate him forever. With something this important, though, he had to hope that his actions would be understood eventually… if his actions didn't have dire consequences.

O

"Five minutes, boys," said Madam Kohl, passing by their table.

The four friends nodded to each other, and from Albus's bag, they extracted the flowing Invisibility Cloak and the Marauder's Map.

"_I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,_" said Albus.

"Truer words have never been spoken," grinned Alec as the map burst into life.

Aidan extracted from his own bag a silvery watch-like device, and strapped it around his wrist. "This is the Wakener I was telling you about," he said. "Got it for Christmas this year. It's insanely expensive, I can't believe my parents got it for me."

"Have you used it before?" asked Eftan, admiring the sleek design.

"Yeah, I used it a couple times this week, just to make sure I knew how to use it," he answered. "It's the weirdest feeling. You set this baby for any time, and when that time hits, you're suddenly wide awake, even if you were deep asleep."

"And it doesn't make any sounds, right?" asked Albus as he handed Aidan the Invisibility Cloak and the Marauder's Map.

"No sounds," answered Aidan. "So, when this thing goes off at 4:45, I'll wake you all up, then come around to each of the dorms in turn with the Invisibility Cloak and collect all of you?"

"Right," said Albus. "Everyone, get your Toupeepop."

He held out a stash of Toupeepops, and Alec and Eftan each took a pair. The Toupeepops were his Uncle George's invention; they came in pairs. Alec, Albus, and Eftan would all lick one lollipop in their pair, and give the other to Aidan. The intended effect was that, when somebody licked a Toupeepop, their hair would be magically switched with the hair of the person who licked the pop's pair. But in trying to find a method for Aidan to wake them up when they were still in their beds, they had discovered that the stress caused on a person's head by the Toupeepop's activation was enough to wake people up. This was a perfect way to wake people up from long-distance. It also ensured that Alec, Albus, and Eftan would not have to set an alarm which might wake up their friends and cause suspicions as to why an alarm was going off hours before sunrise.

"So we can expect to be woken up at 4:45?" asked Albus. "Twenty-one minutes before the eclipse starts?"

"Yeah, and that should give you enough time to get ready," said Aidan. "Then I'll be seeing you shortly, gentlemen; good night."

He packed the map and the Cloak in his bag and strode away quickly.

O

Albus's eyes shot open in the dark. He felt his head, but nothing was happening; he'd just woken up on his own. He glanced around, and pulled his clock under his bedsheets. Lighting the tip of his wand, he observed that it was 4:13.

He sighed, knowing that with the events that were about to take place, there was no way he was going to be able to get back to sleep. Leaning his head back on his pillow, he rubbed his eyes to try to focus them. His head was heavy and his hands and feet were freezing, despite the fact that the temperature in the room was certainly comfortable.

He recited Donovan's Laws of Charms in his head to pass the time, but even after reciting them backwards, then only the odd-numbered laws and only the even-numbered laws, he still had a lot of time to spare. The anticipation was killing him, and he really needed a restroom. He slipped his clock into one of his pockets for the time being, and hoisted himself out of bed at 4:34 for a bathroom break.

After changing his clothes and then relieving himself, he realized that the nervousness he was experiencing made him _constantly_ need to pee, and the bathroom break did nothing. Still jumpy, he entered the common room and sat by the fire. It was 4:39.

He tapped out the beat to some of his favorite Christmas songs. They were still stuck in his head from the holidays.

It was 4:41.

He recited Gaimond's Law word-for-word, tried to recite all the words backwards, and gave up because that was ridiculously difficult.

It was 4:42.

He counted all his fingers to make sure he still had ten.

It was still 4:42.

He waited until it turned to 4:43, and then counted seconds to see how accurately he could time when it would be 4:44.

He was eleven seconds early from nerves; he was counting way too fast.

It was 4:44.

He ran his fingers through his hair, knowing that he'd be swapping this hair for about an hour once Aidan got up. He pictured the others, sitting in their beds, suddenly freaking out from the feeling that there were worms sliding through their hair, and hoped that they wouldn't wake anyone else up. Eftan was level-headed, but Alec was prone to lunacy and sleeping in a room full of some of the sharpest minds in their year—they sure wouldn't let anything fly by if Alec made even a small scene. The subtle flaws in this plan began to immensely stress him out.

It turned to 4:45. All of his worrying had made time fly.

Nervously, he tapped his fingers on the chair and waited for the feeling to come across his hair. He waited, and waited, getting more nervous by the second, imagining that Aidan, having no way of knowing that Albus was awake, was probably taking his time dressing, tip-toeing out of the room…

4:46…

4:47.

Albus's pulse quickened. Had something gone wrong? Was Aidan not awake? Or was he waiting until he was closer before he took the Toupeepop? He counted more seconds.

4:48, and he was getting really agitated. To calm himself, he counted more, counting three seconds early to 4:49, but getting 4:50 almost right on the dot.

He was having a very hard time keeping his eyes open, and he wished that he'd still had the Marauder's Map, so that he could see where Aidan was.

And he was still waiting at 4:56.

Ten minutes before the eclipse, and Aidan was nowhere to be found? What was going on? Maybe something had happened to the Toupeepop, and Aidan had no way of knowing whether Albus could make it.

Or… was there another explanation?

Instantly, upon this realization, Albus boiled over in fury, and his heart pounded faster and more forcefully than it ever had out of nervousness. Aidan had _insisted_ upon taking both the map _and_ the cloak, and was the only one with a timing device to wake him up. Aidan was also the only one who had absolutely insisted that Exo not attend the festival.

Aidan had never planned to wake them up. He had decided to stop Exo by himself, without letting any of his friends know what he was doing.

Albus leapt out of his chair and pulled his wand out of his pocket. At the risk of getting caught outside after hours, he was going to find Aidan and Exo and put a stop to Aidan's awful plan. Gimmick mewled, appearing from nowhere, and scratched at his master's leg, but Albus left the room without paying notice.

Who did Aidan think he was, superseding the judgment of his three other friends in preference of his own? Albus was so mired in his resentment that he didn't stop to think about his excursion until he was almost on the seventh floor by Wilcox's office.

Aidan was _invisible_. How did Albus expect to find him? And with the Marauder's Map, Aidan knew he was out here.

His eyes widened as he realized what this might mean for him: the discovery of his Body-Bound form by the caretaker in the wee hours of the morning, resulting in detention and the loss of a large number of points from Gryffindor, at the least. His blood was rushing furiously through his veins, and he could feel all of it under his skin; his senses heightened as he realized he was going to have to rely on instincts like a hunted animal watching out for its predator. Aidan had all power over him—a way to track him, and a way to sneak up, unseen, and take him down before a reaction was even possible.

A loud, high bark issued at his side made him jump about ten feet in the air.

Tippy, the cute little Pomeranian who belonged to the caretaker, Alpheus Boderight, was staring at him with suspicious eyes. His tail was wagging and he looked pleased to have apprehended an offender. The soft glow of a lantern became visible on the floor below, and Albus knew that with one more bark, he was as good as caught.

He held up a finger to his mouth in desperation, trying to tell the dog not to bark again, but he knew it wasn't going to be any good; Tippy was too happy with his catch. The only way was to…

Albus fingered his wand, but even uttering a Body-Bind curse out loud would be audible enough for Alpheus Boderight to find him. Tippy narrowed his eyes, lowered his stance, and was clearly seconds from barking out loud again.

And then Gimmick appeared out of nowhere—he must have followed Albus out of the room unseen—and whacked Tippy right on the nose. The little dog backed up, but visibly relaxed and stared up at his prey longingly. Albus recalled that Gimmick and Tippy were friends, and Gimmick had enough sense to defend his master from exposure when Albus wasn't supposed to be out.

He breathed a sigh of relief and gratefully scratched Gimmick behind the ears; his little cat purred with great pleasure. He pet Tippy, too, and the little dog seemed to back down from his initial decision that Albus needed to be turned in.

He continued walking up to Wilcox's office, and checking the clock in his pocket briefly, he saw that the eclipse was only two minutes away from occurring. Then Exo would come down out of his dad's office, and if Aidan hadn't taken Albus out of the way by then, Albus could explain the need for constant vigilance and great speed in getting to the Portkey. They could do without the Cloak if necessary, but they couldn't let Aidan win—not with this scummy move he'd pulled.

He kept his wand up, but not lit, as he climbed the last set of stairs. He listened carefully for any telltale signs that Aidan was about to strike—a shuffling of feet, a ripple of the cloak, a puff of breath. It was so silent that his ears were pounding, and he feared it might mask the sound of the things he needed to hear—

Gimmick raced in front of Albus, again out of nowhere, and again nearly causing Albus's heart to fail. He arched his back, and made a growling noise unlike anything Albus had ever seen.

Albus froze in place, and lifted his wand.

Gimmick turned slowly on the spot, following something invisible with his eyes.

A hand, disconnected from a body, appeared out of thin air where Gimmick was staring, and pointed a wand at Albus.

"_Petrificus Totalus!_" whispered Aidan from under the Cloak.

"_Effracturo!_" yelled Albus, instantly regretting the volume of his shout but too terrified to really care.

A loud _smack_ echoed through the halls as Albus's excellently executed Dissipating Charm slapped into Aidan's wand with such force that he dropped it. The floating hand bent down quickly to grab it back, but Gimmick leapt forward and sank his little teeth into Aidan's hand, and Aidan let out an angry grunt. Albus raced forward and grabbed the wand, then grasped around in the air for the Cloak and, feeling it slide beneath his fingers, closed them and ripped it off of the astonished form of Aidan.

He grabbed the Marauder's Map from Aidan's loose grip, and stared right into his friend's face.

"Who is there?"

Alpheus Boderight's recognizable old-man voice echoed up to their floor, and the glow of a lantern could be seen rising up the stairs towards them. "Show yourselves!" he wheezed.

Tippy rounded a corner and barked at the appearance of Aidan; Boderight's footsteps quickened. Albus, emotions overcoming his judgment, shoved Aidan backwards and threw the Cloak over himself and himself alone. He threw Aidan's wand, and it hit the dazed Hufflepuff and clattered to the floor, a thunderclap compared to the silence.

The lantern emerged over the stairs and threw light over the entire area, and Gimmick raced out of the range of sight. Boderight gasped at the discovery of the wandering second year, and his normally kind face tightened in irritation. Aidan backed away, stammering, and feeling awful for what he had done (but unable to rectify it at this point), Albus pattered away towards the entrance to the headmaster's office as silently and swiftly as possible.

"What in the name of Merlin do you think gives you the right to wander the halls of the castle at five o'clock in the morning?" Boderight rasped.

"I—I—I'm sorry, I—stupid, wanted to—to—I lost a bet, I had to—to leave the dorms at 5:00 in the morning and not come back for an hour and not get caught—"

Albus skidded to a stop for a moment, in disbelief at what he had just heard, before realizing how little time he had and turning the corner to patrol the entrance to Wilcox's office. He inclined his ear to continue hearing the conversation. He felt so horrible for what he'd done to his friend; his heart surged with pity as he realized that Aidan was not throwing him and Exo under the bus; he could easily have gotten revenge by taking Boderight to watch over the entrance where Exo would appear.

"Preposterous! You idiot kids these days—_nothing_ gives you the right to be outside of your dormitories this late, _especially_ not something as trivial as a—a _bet_! I am disappointed in you, truly disappointed. You'll be reported for this, you know, I'm sorry. Your Head of House will be responsible for your punishment."

The footsteps went down a flight of stairs, and then the stone gargoyle that guarded the headmaster's office jumped aside.

Exo peeked out of the doorway, eyes wide, looking much healthier than Albus had expected; for a moment, Albus was worried that this was Wilcox. But then Exo extracted the pamphlet from his pocket which led him in the direction of the Portkey, and set off at a fast stride towards the stairs.

With a quick "_Mischief Managed_," Albus tucked the map into his pocket, freeing both hands to hold the Cloak, and he followed. He had been anticipating four of them under the Cloak to be balancing navigation with stability and stealth; this was much more manageable, but he still felt bad that he was unable to include Alec or Eftan. He shook off all other thoughts and focused on following Exo without his notice.

Exo, as tense as Albus had been walking up, descended to the ground floor and silently scurried his way to the door leading to the castle grounds facing the Forbidden Forest and Faustulus Earle's cabin. He opened the door, cringing as it slightly squeaked, glanced around, and scampered out, followed closely by Albus in the Cloak, who had to squeeze through the door to prevent opening it further, which may have attracted Exo's attention.

Exo seemed to relax once he was out in the open, and glanced up at the moon. Albus started at the sight: the moon had a red shadow across it, like a close-up of Mars. The sight was fascinating to behold, and for a moment, he almost forgot his intentions for the night, and he turned back to see Exo escaping him, holding the flyer in front of him and following its direction as he lit his wand.

Knowing that the Marauder's Map would be no help now that Exo was about to cross the border into the Forbidden Forest, Albus loped after him, trying to cover as much ground as possible while remaining silent. He timed his footsteps with Exo's, and clenched his teeth together as little sounds escaped here and there—the crinkle of clothing, the rustle of grass. He only hoped Exo had the same pounding in his ears that Albus had experienced, so that the werewolf would not discover his hunter.

Now Albus was the pursuer, but he was no less nervous than he had been when he was pursued. He followed Exo, much, much deeper into the Forbidden Forest, light on his feet, avoiding even the smallest sounds, and then Exo paused in a small clearing and breathed in deeply.

Albus's gaze dropped to the forest floor, and landed on an object most out of place: a book, in terrible condition, with its pages jutting out slightly at odd angles.

Albus checked his watch again. It was 5:15, and it turned to 5:16. Sixty seconds until the Portkey left…

"_Nox_," said Exo excitedly, extinguishing his wand. He looked around, and then bent down and grasped the book, holding it close to his chest as he straightened up and breathed in deeply.

Albus crept closer to Exo, slowly, counting in his head just in case. He stepped anywhere that didn't have leaves, until twenty seconds into his count, he was close enough to reach. He stood directly behind Exo, and carefully pinched the fabric of the boy's shirt between his thumb and forefinger, trying as hard as possible not to move the shirt so as to alert Exo of his presence.

Exo stood perfectly still. Albus kept counting in his head, ready to lunge out and tackle Exo if his grip was lost, to ensure he wouldn't be left behind. But this touch was sufficient to take him, he knew. About ten seconds until the Portkey left… five… three, two, one…

He felt a hook behind his navel catch, and suddenly he was rocketing through an unknown space, the world compressing in around him, his pinch on Exo suddenly becoming a hold for dear life; he knew he was now tugging on the shirt, and he knew Exo could feel it; his company was no longer unnoticed.

They slammed into soft grass; a fairly strong and steady breeze was whipping across the pasture, and the Invisibility Cloak flapped off of Albus for a moment before he seized it again. Turning in Albus's direction to investigate his hitchhiker, Exo nearly shouted out, and toppled over backwards with a hand over his mouth.

"Albus!" he hissed, his surprise turning to fury. "How the heck—?"

Albus ran up close and threw the Invisibility Cloak over Exo, too; their bodies started to heat up the trapped air around them, but they were still shivering. It was brutal outside, even worse than at Hogwarts in the mountains.

"What're you—"

"Don't say anything too loudly," interrupted Albus. "I'm here to help you. I'm not here to stop you."

Exo's gaze softened. "You're not…?"

"Careful," warned Albus. "Remember not to talk about what's going on. You're not allowed to. Let's move—the festival will be starting soon."

Exo nodded, and though it was dark, Albus swore he could see his friend's eyes watering.

Albus pointed his wand at the dropped book. "_Wingardium Leviosa_," he uttered, swishing and flicking his wand. The Portkey rose up into the air, and followed them as they began the walk, guided by the pamphlet, which now displayed the direction of the festival.

As they trudged forward, stepping in unison and keeping the cloak over them, Albus sighed. "Alec and Eftan were supposed to be here with us," he explained. "Aidan was, too, but he was in charge of waking all of us up and he… didn't. He tried to just leave us behind and stop you from going at all. I sort of turned him in to Boderight."

Exo nodded, still avoiding his own discussion of the topic which would take his life due to the contract he'd signed.

"We wanted to come to keep you safe," said Albus. "I… really think this is the real deal, but… you can never take any chances."

Exo wiped his nose on his sleeve and sniffed. He looked up at the red moon.

"Exo?" asked Albus quietly. "I…"

It was the perfect time to ask really personal questions…

"You never answered my question. How you became a werewolf. Will you tell me?"

Exo closed his eyes and paused for a moment. Albus paused with him.

"Fenrir Greyback," said Exo at last. "Fenrir Greyback tried to drag me away. I was only four, but… I remember it. Clearly. I still have nightmares about it."

"And… was that all that happened?"

Exo shook his head no.

This was it. Exo was finally going to open up to him…

"He… Greyback killed her," said Exo, shivering from either the cold or from suppressed sobs. "He killed my sister Chrianna."

Albus had known that his friend had lost a sibling in the attack, of course, but it meant the world to him that Exo now trusted him enough to disclose this information.

"He did?"

It wasn't hard to feign shock and horror—those emotions prevailed any time he thought about Greyback.

Exo nodded. "Greyback… went after my dad. They think… they think that he was in love with my mother, and believed that my dad was the cause of her death. He wanted revenge."

Albus considered this—he hadn't heard _that_ part yet.

"But… if he was in love with her, why would he have tried to kill her children?"

"I don't know if he meant to kill me and Chrianna," said Exo. "We think he tried to infect us and drag us out to be his own little werewolf children." He shivered again, though the breeze had temporarily ceased.

"Oh, Merlin," whispered Albus, trying to picture this.

Exo glanced back down at the flyer. They were headed right for the site of the ritual now. They started to climb a small hill—over it, they could hear voices.

Albus started to breathe rapidly. This was it—they were finally going to see what was going on. He quickened his pace, as did Exo.

Some other people were approaching from an angle, holding flyers of their own. There was a man and a woman holding hands, and a woman and a child who looked too young to attend Hogwarts… They crested the hill, and Albus gasped audibly.

Below them were _hundreds_ of people—how many werewolves were there in Britain? It couldn't have been _this_ many. Yet here they all were, looking around nervously, glancing down at exact copies of the pamphlet that Exo had procured…

Where _had_ Exo gotten that flyer, anyway?

That was a question, and a concerning one. He might never know, though—Exo was forbidden to speak of this. Would that curse wear off after the festival?

And then suddenly Exo jarred Albus out of his thoughts by seizing him violently on the arm. Albus turned to him, about to whisper a complaint, but then he saw that Exo was pointing, his face drained of all color, and he turned and saw…

"_Greyback,_" breathed Exo.

It was Fenrir Greyback, standing twenty-five feet from the pair under the Invisibility Cloak, holding hands with a woman and a little boy of about eight or nine.

_"I believe it's possible that Greyback was visiting family at the instances where he was spotted. This accomplice may even have been his wife."_

His father's voice echoed through his head. He stared at Greyback, seeing such tenderness in the way he stood close to the people who were presumably his wife and child, and for a moment, he couldn't believe that this was the man who had killed Exo's sister.

He sensed Exo slowly extracting his wand to his side.

Albus seized Exo's wrist. "_No,_" he whispered. "We're surrounded by people who will think you're an ambusher. And how many people do you think are here who would love to have an Invisibility Cloak? We can't take the risk."

Exo stared down Greyback with such ferocity that Albus was surprised Greyback couldn't feel it.

He was still addled from the little sleep he'd gotten, but at the same time, very alert; the combination of awareness and disorientation made the situation feel very dreamlike. He pinched his own arm to ensure that he was awake, and indeed, he was.

Then, all at once, the mumbling of the general crowd ceased as a man stepped up on a podium in the center of the field. He was cloaked in a heavy garment and wore a hood. He was neither tall nor brutish, and his presence was not at all commanding until he straightened up fully and removed the hood, and his face became visible.

Light appeared all around them—a ring of fire manifested around them. For a moment, Albus thought they were trapped, but the ring hovered several heads above the outside of the crowd like a halo over the little valley where they stood, casting light from all directions. John Solomon, as Albus recognized from pictures, stood on the podium with his hands raised, and the only sound was the crackle of the fire.

"Werewolves of England," he said, calmly but loudly. "The time has come for the cure. We have all waited long enough."

He looked around at the crowd, and smiled at the number of people he saw around him. He was even softer the next time he spoke, but it still projected through the crowd in an entrancing way.

"After tonight, you will never transform again."

A cheer rang out from those closest to Solomon, and the cheer was echoed throughout the field. Albus looked around nervously, worried that they shouldn't be making too much noise… but they were on a secluded, unpopulated island.

Solomon raised his hands higher, and when he yelled, it was infinitely more powerful than his shorter and softer speech.

"TONIGHT, THE WEREWOLVES OF ENGLAND WILL SUFFER NO MORE! TONIGHT, WE TAKE THE FIRST STEP IN EXPELLING THE WEREWOLF CONDITION FROM ALL WIZARDKIND! TONIGHT, YOU WILL ALL FINALLY BE FREE!"

The cheers would have been deafening, but the wind and openness of the pasture carried the voices away. Exo stood stiff under the Cloak, waiting to see if he would have to leave the Cloak to take part in the cure; but he didn't dare enter into the sight of Greyback. Albus, despite his convictions, kept a firm hand around Exo's wrist. He didn't want anything to happen to his friend, and if Exo had to keep his condition until the cure went public, it was better than Exo being cured by being killed.

Albus kept an eye on Greyback, who was not joining in the cheer, but rather staring silently and solemnly up at Solomon. The old werewolf lifted his arm up to his eyes and dragged his sleeve across them.

All eyes widened and all cheers ceased as Solomon held up his wand. There was a strange, alien attachment to the end of his wand—it looked like a funnel, but it was undulating like the head of a jellyfish. It was glowing black—glowing black, was that even possible?

He heard Exo's breath catch as he stared at the sight: This was it. This was the real deal. Exo was going to… He would walk out of here a normal human.

Albus glanced at Exo's face. Exo's eyes were almost glossed over at the sight of John Solomon's artifact… He looked over at Fenrir Greyback, who was staring with an arched eyebrow—_right in their direction._

Albus's breath was next to catch. He was sweating, though it was freezing. He thought back to Gimmick, who found Aidan under the Cloak—was there some animalistic quality in Greyback that was making him see them?

And then Greyback started to advance towards them, a confused but apprehensive expression on his face, and his eyes narrowed.

Albus backed away slowly, trying to stay quiet, starting to panic; Exo turned at the movement and clapped a hand over his mouth when he saw Greyback. Albus looked around, and something caught his eye—he followed Greyback's gaze—

_The Portkey._

The book that had served as their Portkey was still hovering in midair next to them, and was following them as they walked.

Greyback tensed when he saw the book moving, and actually backed away, keeping his body in between the suspicious book and his child. He glanced around to see that all of the other werewolves were moving slowly towards John Solomon—with a muttered incantation, light started to shine in rings out from Solomon's wand and its attachment, and the moon started to glow an even deeper red, and Exo clutched Albus's arm, and the light passed through him, and he gasped and twitched violently; the Cloak almost fell off—Solomon started screaming the incantation faster, the light grew brighter and started to take on an almost liquid quality like the flowing wand extension—the moon pulsed with deeper and deeper reds and the fire above them roared and expanded and leapt further into the air—the werewolves all around gasped and clutched their chests—the wind howled in their ears—Exo crumpled to the ground and the Cloak slid off of them—Greyback turned to them and his eyes fell upon them, he saw the son of Harry Potter and the son of Helio Wilcox, and his shock turned into a vicious snarl and—

Fire. Fire and explosions and horror and shrieks.

Greyback's head whipped forward and the back of his skull erupted in a shower of red; all around them, werewolves were falling to the ground, limp and lifeless, and the ring of fire disappeared, the moon stopped pulsing, the light stopped shining, and all around them in the trees there were flashes, flashes of fiery light and the most awful sound imaginable, like thousands of bolts of lightning, piercing the air before they pierced the bodies, and Albus didn't understand it, he twisted all around to try to comprehend and then Exo clutched Albus's leg and screamed.

Greyback's wife shrieked at her husband's form on the ground; collecting herself, she grabbed her son's arm and dragged him as he writhed and cried out from the ground; she pulled hard, straining herself, tugging him all the way to his father's corpse with wide, watchful eyes, and then leaned out a hand to grab her husband's cloak and she Disapparated; but as she did, Albus saw something hit her face and another splatter of red marked her disappearance, and he knew she couldn't have survived—

Albus understood as he looked in the trees, it was the same sound he'd heard so many times in the movies from Eftan's cellular phone, they were the sounds of gunshots, of Muggles with guns, they were everywhere, all around, firing randomly into the crowd, and he and Exo were in the crowd.

His eyes flew up instinctively to John Solomon—Solomon was firing curses into the trees at the lights, looking petrified, and then he whirled around and clutched his left hand, and Albus clearly saw three fingers fly cleanly into the crowd—

And then it hit him—a pain unlike anything he'd ever experienced, followed immediately by numbness, and then he collapsed. He fought with all his might to stay conscious as he glanced down to see that something had struck his knee, and it looked like someone had taken a scalpel and carved him open messily, he could see bone and he couldn't breathe, he was in shock, and he was in full panic, how would they escape; they couldn't run, they'd be easy targets in the open, and they couldn't Disapparate—_THE PORTKEY_—

"EXO!" he cried. "EXO—GRAB THE PORTKEY! GRAB THE PORTKEY—EXO, PLEASE, YOU HAVE TO GET IT!"

Exo was paler than Albus had ever seen him, shrieking at the top of his lungs, and talking to him was useless, he was in even worse shock; there were only a few dozen people still standing, they were fighting back, but they were falling one by one—Albus and Exo were among those laying on the ground, and were probably indistinguishable from the dead, but that camouflage wouldn't last if everything stopped and Exo was still screaming—

Albus lunged for the Portkey, hoping Exo's grip wouldn't leave his foot, and his mind was suddenly miraculously clear as he became aware enough to remember to snatch the Invisibility Cloak; he did so with his right hand and a fingernail on his left hand brushed the floating book—

They were plummeting, jerked sideways, jerked forward, jerked everywhere, his blood was gushing, Exo was still holding on and still screaming but it was deafened in whichever between-world they were traveling, the suffocating pressure was all around them but it was nothing compared to the sheer horror they had just escaped, and then they were pounded into a forest floor, and Exo was still screaming.


	10. Nightmare

_**Ok! Relief from that horribly torturous cliffhanger I left you on. (I'm not sorry and I'd do it again.) And we're into double digits on chapters in book 2, which is awesome. I'm happy to say that I've written an awesome little short story focusing on some of Harry's time in the Auror Office during Book 1. It's about 2000 words. I will clean that up and edit it to upload for you guys on Christmas because that seems like that's**__** a good time to upload something extra. I actually really, really love that short fic, hope you do too.**_

_**Here's a word of caution, by the way... Totally you all should Google original names before you use them in your stories. I was very nettled to learn that when you Google search "Mia Moon" in quotes, you get results on the first page like "Eurobabeindex" and "AssholeFever." ...I feel really bad for actual people with this name. So I told this to Andy, the architect of our Albus Potter series, and he said that he once planned to name a character "Kolza" in a story he was writing because he thought the name sounded beautiful, but was slightly unsettled months later to learn that, apparently, "Colza" is Italian for "Rape." Of course, on further investigation, he found that it was "rapeseed," which is a plant, but still, perhaps not the best choice.**_

_**On the flip side, it's always really fun when you can search a name you've created and see your own story come up on Google, by the way. Like "Eftan Griffiths" and "Jonah Baxter-Thornton." It makes me kind of giddy.**_

_**Anyways, I'm rambling... but you can deal with it, I don't do it often. Here is the next thrilling installment!**_

* * *

CHAPTER TEN

NIGHTMARE

O

Exo was shrieking at the top of his lungs. Birds were taking off. Albus didn't care. He was lying on the ground, bleeding out, just hoping that someone would hear Exo and come running, hoping that it was a some_one_ and not a some_thing_.

He lifted up his wand dully, not really realizing what he was doing, and blasted up red sparks that burst in the air like fireworks. Apparently thinking they had returned to the field, due to the noise and flashes, Exo screamed louder.

Thumping noises heralded the arrival of a living being. Something grasped his arms and pulled him up strongly. Exo was still clutching to his leg and still shouting his throat out; he was prised off, but he wasn't far. Albus could still hear him but did not possess enough strength to look around to see his friend. He was lifted up high and draped on the back of… a horse? Someone had ridden a horse out here to save them; Exo was beside him as they galloped in some direction, Albus didn't really know…

Through the constant noise from Exo, Albus heard a few words exchanged between gruff male voices.

"_Younglings…_"

"_Cannot leave…_"

"_In need…_"

"_Mars…_"

He was deposited on the ground. The red moon was still present, but not pulsating like it had been doing during the ritual—_the ritual_, had it really been the real thing, had he really been there just seconds ago? It seemed like infinitely back in the past at this point…

His transport was still nearby, at least for a moment, but when shouts drifted down from a short distance, whoever had helped them now turned and galloped away.

Albus used all of his strength just to turn his head, and his eyes watered and he shook with sobs as he recognized Hogwarts in the distance, and Helio Wilcox charging towards them at top speed.

Wilcox skidded to a stop, and his eyes bulged as he took in the sight in front of him. Exo was still screaming bloody murder, and Albus just stared at Wilcox's face.

Then Wilcox took out his wand.

Albus's heart started pounding faster; he felt like he was bleeding faster. Wilcox narrowed his eyes, and looked like he was about to speak an incantation—

From the air dropped a pure white bird-like creature, which warped and twisted until it became a man—Professor Desulgon, who took one look at the sight in front of him and yelped almost as loud as Exo was continuing to scream.

"For heaven's sakes, Helio, put down that wand, what are you doing?" bellowed Professor Desulgon.

"Are they truly the children?" said Wilcox in a shaky voice. "Not imposters?"

A glowing white light sailed out of a castle window, and soared towards them; landing, it formed into a small human-like creature; squinting his eyes, Albus made out the form of a small primate, a spider monkey…?

"Mr. Finch-Fletchley, in response to the disturbance, claims that Albus Potter and your son are in the Forbidden Forest," came Professor Westerling's voice from the monkey, as if to answer Wilcox's question. "Confirm or deny, as soon as possible; a rescue mission may be necessary. Mr. Finch-Fletchley is in clear distress."

Helio turned his wand behind him; some sort of giant fish burst its way from the tip and swam through the air to the castle. He then directed his wand back at the two boys, but this time, he produced bandages out of the air and with a twirl, wrapped them around Albus's leg. It didn't matter to Albus's mind; he couldn't feel his leg at all. But he knew it was important to staunch the wound; he'd lost a lot of blood already. His whole body was feeling light, as if he'd lost weight. He shivered and his throat contracted.

"—happened?"

Albus was losing his hearing. He looked up in distress, lifting his head up slightly, but the effort involved sent waves of pain radiating through his entire body, except his leg, which he could not feel. Professor Desulgon conjured stretchers, and Wilcox lifted the boys onto them. Someone else had run to join them, and was calming Exo; the screaming finally stopped. Darkness was closing in around Albus's eyes. Someone was talking, but he couldn't tell who; it was muffled, all was becoming dampened and distant.

"—Potter, explain, please explain, what were—"

His head sank limply onto the stretcher, and he blacked out.

O

He woke in the hospital wing. Dimly he was aware that this was his first visit.

"Oh, thank goodness," came a soft, breathy voice; Albus looked over to see Madam Birchbaum standing just across the room. She had kind eyes and rugged brown hair and big, red lips that were pursed in trepidation.

She rushed to him and stuck some strange instrument onto his forehead. She nodded and mumbled to herself as she checked various parts of his body.

Albus glanced to his side, and saw Exo, plainly awake, but staring blankly at the ceiling and still without color in his face.

"He's all right," assured Madam Birchbaum. "He still had to be contained for the rest of his transformation, but following the rising of the sun, he was transferred here, and I gave him something to help him sleep. Sleep he did, for quite a while, but ever since he's woken up he's just been staring at the ceiling, not reacting to any movements. I believe he'll be fine after the shock wears off, we've given him tonic for that, too, but for now, we had to expect him to be sick anyway… it's the night after the full moon."

_Night?_ thought Albus vaguely. _Did I spend the entire day here?_

"You have visitors sitting just outside the door," she said. "They've been waiting there for hours. Missed all of their classes in favor of waiting. They insisted I let them know as soon as you were awake. Do you think you could handle visitors?"

Albus nodded.

Madam Birchbaum walked towards the door, but her eyes remained on him. She turned just before she reached the door and opened it, gave a quick nod and a wave of her hand towards the inside of the room, and then leapt out of the way as a distressed-looking Aidan, Alec, and Eftan burst into the room, sprinting towards Albus's bed.

"Do NOT touch that bed!" crowed Madam Birchbaum, but Albus's three visitors stopped short of the bed anyway and knelt down at his side so that their heads were level. Albus let his head fall to the side and smiled weakly at them.

"I… absolutely should not have done what I did," mumbled Aidan, tearing up. "I'm so sorry. We could have all been there to help."

"Don't… don't worry about it," said Albus. "You were trying to stop this from happening. It could have happened to all of us."

"What _did_ happen?" asked Alec nervously.

Eftan bumped him with an elbow. "Quiet, maybe he doesn't want to talk about it," he said as quietly as possible, but Albus could still discern it. It was as if his senses were still heightened from the adrenaline rush during the terror."

"No, it's fine," said Albus, shifting in his bed. "It was…" He swallowed. "It was guns. Guns all around us."

"_Gunfire?_" sputtered Eftan, thunderstruck. "It was _Muggles?_"

"I think it was," said Albus, and then he was suddenly transported in his mind back to the incident and his entire body seized up.

What was this? He didn't understand—he knew he was safe, but he was stiff and sweating and afraid for his life as if he was back in the field, lying on the ground with Exo clutching his leg, and he could still hear the screaming—

"OUT, OUT NOW!" bellowed Madam Birchbaum. Albus snapped back into reality to see that his friends were backed halfway across the room, his sheets were all over, and tears were streaming down his face.

"What—what—?" stammered Albus.

"OUT OF THE HOSPITAL WING, AND DON'T YOU COME BACK!" she roared, advancing on them, and she slammed the door behind them as they retreated.

"What happened?" said Albus, realizing he was out of breath.

"You were screaming," said Madam Birchbaum simply. "Screaming and thrashing."

_Screaming and thrashing?_

But—he hadn't screamed and thrashed at the festival when it had happened… He had kept his mind the entire time, even thought to grab the Invisibility Cloak—

Albus's breath caught, this time for a different reason. _He hadn't picked up the Cloak when he left the forest_.

He returned his mind to what had happened afterwards. He was lying on the forest floor—he'd been gripping the Invisibility Cloak with one hand, but after he'd landed and he knew they were out of harm's way, his mind had pretty much shut off. Where was the Cloak now?

And who had rescued him? But the answer to this came quicker. Considering that he had been in the forest, it probably wasn't a person riding a horse. It must have been the centaurs. But why would they have left, why wouldn't they have let Wilcox know who had saved the life of his son and a friend? And, more importantly at the moment, would they have seen the Cloak? Would they have thought to pick it up if they had?

"Here," said Madam Birchbaum, exiting her office with a bubbling potion in a very large container; it probably would have given Hagrid a run for his money to finish. She was using her wand to hover it, rather than carry it, because it was bubbling over the sides. When it hit the floor, it hissed.

"What's this going to do?" asked Albus nervously.

"It's going to calm you," she said. "You will be able to relax. You'll drink half of it now, half of what's left in an hour, half of what's left of _that_ in an hours, and so on until twenty-four hours after you started, when you should just finish it off. Your brain will calm itself and begin to organize itself rationally again."

"It doesn't look like a very calm potion," said Albus skeptically as a large bubble burst and Madam Birchbaum leapt aside to avoid it landing on her shoe.

"Would you rather allow your brain to continue transporting you back to that nightmare?" she asked. "Or would you rather settle your brain so that you realize that you're safe right now and avoid nearly kicking your friends in the face when you flash back and think you're in the middle of a gun fight?"

"I guess I'll take the potion," said Albus as it was placed down at his side, wondering how he was expected to drink this concoction without it burning a hole in the bottom of his mouth and escaping.

He lifted it to his lips, with Madam Birchbaum's help (it was extremely heavy), and tilted the glass a fair amount. It tasted like the smell that comes with fresh rain, and it felt like a massage in his mouth. Pleasantly surprised, he kept drinking until Madam Birchbaum pulled it away from him.

"That's half," said Madam Birchbaum. "I'll tell you when you should take it again. Tomorrow, Professor Wilcox would like to ask you what happened. He's not getting much out of his son." She glanced over to his bed. "You may go back to sleep if you wish, but I'll have to wake you up in an—"

Madam Birchbaum was cut off when the door burst open and Holly Glissendale ran in.

"NO, ABSOLUTELY NOT!" came Madam Birchbaum's shout.

Holly let out a little "Eep!" and darted back out, but she seemed somewhat more relaxed to find that Albus was conscious. Albus felt really happy that Holly came to see him. He felt really happy overall…

Why was he in the hospital wing, again? He couldn't remember… It was too long ago… years, probably… how old was he? Wait, where was he?

He was on his bed, at home, but also by the ocean, and also staring at the night sky, and also sitting in front of a crackling fire, and all he knew was peace.

O

Waking up an hour later to Madam Birchbaum shaking his shoulder, he realized with a jolt what the potion had done to him, and imagined that would probably be what dying in one's sleep would feel like.

"More potion, dear," she said, tilting the container back towards him.

"No," said Albus, shaking his head firmly, "I don't want it. No more."

"I'm going to force-feed it to you if you don't take it," she warned.

Albus sighed and sipped the potion again. Exactly the same effect took place, and the entire day was spent by drifting into a paradise-like peace and being sharply awakened to the dreadful realization that all those horrible things had really happened. He'd rather have done without the potion, but he trusted the professional when she said that it would help in the long run.

The next time he woke up, James had come in to visit, and unfortunately seemed to be unable to stop himself from investigating what Albus had been doing. He didn't inquire about the fate of the Marauder's Map or the Cloak, though. And he brought Gimmick, who seemed to know something was wrong with Albus; he rubbed his face against his owner's, and settled down on Albus's chest to sleep, purring.

The potion process continued long into the night, and at some point, Exo had started on the potion as well. Albus felt bad for Madam Birchbaum—she had to keep setting her own alarms every hour throughout the night. By morning, Albus had expected her to look utterly exhausted, but she looked fine until the afternoon came around—then she looked and acted like death.

But finally, after he had gotten to the point where taking half the potion was just a matter of taking tinier and tinier sips, he was told he could finish it. An hour after that, Wilcox walked into the hospital wing for the first time—or at least, the first time since Albus had been awake. He may have come in the previous day when Albus was asleep.

"Exorian," said Wilcox, kneeling down next to the bed. "How do you feel?"

Exo twirled the bed sheet around his finger. "I'm… okay."

"Did the potion help?"

Exo nodded.

"Do you think you can talk?"

Exo shook his head.

"Oh—I don't mean about the eclipse festival," said Wilcox in a very low voice. "You can talk about that. There was never any curse carried by your signature on that pamphlet—we confirmed it. That was just a ruse to scare you, to prevent you from talking about it, but it was a bluff."

Exo looked up. "I can talk about it?"

"Freely," said Wilcox. "You won't die."

Exo's head sank back to stare at the sheets.

"But you don't want to, do you."

Exo shook his head again.

"I understand," said Wilcox. "It's okay."

The Headmaster stood up, but continued to look down at his son.

"I'm so, so sorry," he breathed tremulously. "If anything I've done drove you to this… I am so, so sorry. Can you ever forgive me?"

Exo looked up; the back of his head was to Albus, so he couldn't see his friend's face, but Exo nodded, and then leaned off the bed to give his father a hug around the waist, which was returned graciously.

Wilcox then strode over to Albus in a much more businesslike fashion.

"Albus," he said gravely. "Do you think you could talk? I'm extremely sorry to put you through this, but… we need to know what happened."

"I can talk," said Albus, eager to take the pressure off of Exo.

"Thank goodness," said Wilcox, and he took Albus's hand. "Can you walk? We can provide transport if necessary; I'd like to talk in my office."

"I can walk," said Albus, retracting his hand from Wilcox's grip, determined not to be coddled. He lifted Gimmick up, swung his legs around over the side of his bed, out from under the sheets, and for the first time since the incident, he saw his left leg—

It was absolutely fine. It looked as though nothing had happened to it.

"It wasn't a magical wound," said Madam Birchbaum, walking out to meet Albus. She had very dark lines under her eyes. "So it was actually rather easy to fix up. Remedying the blood loss was more difficult… But we got you all better in the end. You should be fine to walk, if not ever so slightly shaky at first."

"Cynthia, you are a goddess," said Wilcox. "Thank you so much for everything you've done for us. The last potion…?"

"Make sure a day is taken to decide," said Madam Birchbaum under her breath, handing Wilcox a bottle wrapped in cloth. "Don't want rushed decisions causing regrets."

Giving no explanation for this, Wilcox waved Albus along, stowing the bottle in his robes. "Come on, then. Are you sure you won't need assistance?"

Albus stood up, and steadied himself with a hand first, as the world seemed to tilt. He waited a few seconds to get his bearings back, and then started to walk, feeling no peculiarities in his leg or anywhere else.

"I'm fine," said Albus as he followed Wilcox out of the hospital wing.

"Ah, 'I'm fine,'" sighed Wilcox as they exited into the hallway. "If I had a Sickle for every time I heard my son say that… It's one of his favorites. Funnily enough though, it's usually never true when he says it."

Albus paled, suddenly realizing that Wilcox probably blamed him for assisting his son's escape from the castle… which was true, to an extent…

They passed some people walking the other way, who pointed and whispered at Albus. It sort of reminded Albus of the beginning of his first year, when everyone in school felt the need to discuss with everyone else in school how Albus was the son of Harry Potter. This time, though, they were talking about _him,_ and not about his father. He was wrong. Being the subject of whispered conversations was consistently unpleasant, regardless of how he was identified, as the son of the famous Harry Potter, or that kid they found lying in the Forbidden Forest with his leg torn open. He wondered how much the school knew.

"Here," said Wilcox, noticing that Albus was looking at the people staring at him. He directed Albus into a small, empty, circular classroom.

"I thought we were going to your office," said Albus, frowning.

"We are," grinned Wilcox. "_My office_."

"This isn't—" Albus was about to say, and then the walls started to spin.

The floor stood steady, but the circular wall turned halfway around them. The open door moved along the wall until it stopped to reveal a different opening. The sound of rushing wind filled the room.

"Whoa," said Albus, as Wilcox put a hand behind his back and guided him to the new exit. Beckoning him, Wilcox stepped through the threshold, and was sucked upwards as if through a straw.

Albus smirked, impressed, and also stepped through the door. Instantly, he felt the effects that he associated with Floo Powder; he hurtled through a tube and plunged downward suddenly, landing surprisingly lightly in a small room with just one door. Wilcox was standing just in front of it.

"Where are we?" he asked.

Wilcox smiled and opened the door, revealing the Headmaster's office.

"Wow," said Albus, admiring the quick route across the castle.

"A Headmaster needs to get around," said Wilcox, shrugging. "Come, now, I need to cross-examine you."

Albus walked after Wilcox, who casually flicked his wand; a chair slid itself across the floor, stopping right in front of the Headmaster's desk. Wilcox walked behind the desk as Albus took the chair.

"We should wait for a moment," said Wilcox.

"Why?" asked Albus; right as he finished his question, the door opened. He turned around and gasped.

Immediately, he rocketed out of his chair and bounded across the office, throwing himself into a tight hug with his father, who had just entered.

Harry laughed and tousled his son's hair. "Hello, Al. I've heard some… _interesting_ things about you recently. I think you've inherited my tendency to meddle around with things, haven't you?"

"He certainly has," said Wilcox humorlessly. "And I'm not so sure 'interesting' is the word to be used here… 'Bone-chilling,' perhaps. We're dealing with a genocide on our hands. Two days ago… we lost half of our nation's population of unfortunate wizards afflicted with lycanthropy. _Half_. I'm hoping your son can enlighten us on some of the details with which we are fuzzy."

Harry nodded and guided his son back to the chair, then stood close by with a hand on Albus's shoulders.

Wilcox took a deep breath and scratched the back of his neck.

"There really isn't anything better to ask than, 'What happened?'"

Albus took a deep breath, too, and then delved into the explanation. He left out certain parts—the things that Exo had said about his father, mainly, and the fact that Aidan, Alec, and Eftan were also supposed to come. Other than what would incriminate someone, he relayed the entire story to Wilcox, who nodded with glistening eyes as he finished.

"What about Mr. Finch-Fletchley, then?" asked Wilcox, his eyebrows settling. "What was he doing out of his dormitory, how did he know where you'd gone?"

"He was responsible for waking me up," said Albus quickly, which was true. "And he was our lookout to make sure we wouldn't get caught." Not as true, but he _did_ distract Boderight so that Exo wasn't in danger of being apprehended…

"I see," said Wilcox. "I believe you, that you found that flyer among Exo's belongings—Exo wouldn't have talked about it to you or let you have the flyer, because of the curse he believed it carried…"

"How do you know it didn't carry a curse?" asked Albus.

"We had the letter examined," said Harry, looking down at his son. "We used all the methods at our disposal to analyze it, and we are one hundred percent certain there was never any contract to the signature. Even if there was some curse we didn't know, we still would have been able to detect it, if not identify its effects. But our analyses _did_ turn up something rather noteworthy."

Albus paused, and then realized his father was waiting for a response. "Oh. What?"

"The letter had traces of the properties of the Fidelius Charm, first of all," said Harry. "So you couldn't find the Portkeys unless you were in on the secret. Whoever was behind this ordeal wrote the letters with their own hand. You said you're certain it was Solomon that you saw?"

"I recognized him from pictures," repeated Albus.

"So Solomon gave the secret of the Fidelius protection to anyone who read the letters," said Harry, "but only the signature of someone carrying a Transfection could unlock the letter. That is, someone who was a werewolf… but it could also have been unlocked by a Metamorphmagus, or an Animagus, or a Botanimagus. Solomon must have been hoping that no one in those categories would by coincidence find a letter. It still disturbs me how they managed to circulate the letters to only werewolves, though."

"But the Fidelius Charm wasn't the worst part of what we uncovered on that flyer," said Wilcox dangerously. "Not slightly. Nowhere near it. Albus, after you read the pamphlet, were you absolutely _convinced_, against your better judgment, that what you read was true; that this festival was not a hoax?"

Surprised, Albus gave a quick nod. "Yes," he assented. "I was."

"That's because the letter was given the Siren Song Charm," said Harry grimly. "Anyone who read it was given extreme convictions that they were reading the truth, and total confidence in those convictions. Effects from this charm are dimmer on more intelligent people, and it's not foolproof, but you can see how that worked out. They lured so many werewolves into this trap."

Albus felt his blood heat up, and he stood up from his chair to face his father.

"That's not true," he protested angrily. "This wasn't a trick! There was an ambush!"

"The people who coordinated the festival orchestrated the ambush themselves!" said Harry. "Haven't you thought about it? We're after a murderer who is targeting werewolves, Ivan Siobor, and suddenly, at about the same time that Siobor is at large, this happens. Siobor might even have strategically murdered just enough people to scare the rest into going! Al, I know you believe otherwise, but this is the effect of the Siren Song Charm. You don't realize that you're still swayed by the tweaking they've done to your perceptions of reality!"

"I was _there!_" shouted Albus. "I was at the festival—John Solomon was doing it, he was _really doing it_—"

"He was putting on a special effects show, making pretty visuals to distract the werewolves from their surroundings," said Wilcox seriously.

"He had half his hand shot off!" refuted Albus. "I don't even know if he made it out alive!"

"If he did, we'll find him," said Harry. "We've got everyone going after him."

"What—how can you—?"

"He killed _hundreds_ of people, Al, we're not going to presume innocence with the mass of evidence against him!"

"This is—"

"The _Fidelius Charm_, Albus, the _Fidelius Charm_!" growled Wilcox. "They used the Fidelius Charm to prevent anyone from stumbling across the Portkeys, but also to protect the field! No one, especially not dozens of Muggle ambushers, could have found them in that field without having been told, and I hope you're not going to suggest that any of the werewolves asked Muggles to come and mow down their brethren!"

"I know what I saw, and it's not just because of what I read!" said Albus.

"Then what of the Siren Song Charm?" blustered Harry. "You really think that was with good intentions?"

"Yes!" rebutted Albus. "Yes, I do! Solomon really wanted to cure as many werewolves as he could, and he wouldn't have had nearly as much attendance if no one believed him! Of course he would have wanted to ensure that his readers knew that he WAS telling the truth!"

"Al, I know you want to believe that there's hope for curing your friend," said Harry, "but a cure for lycanthropy simply_ does not exist_. Not only does it not exist, but it _can not exist_. Solomon—or someone controlling Solomon, or disguised as Solomon—just tore apart hundreds of families last night. Those are the facts. There is no arguing it."

"But—"

"_There is no arguing this,_" repeated Harry sternly.

"You're being so unreasonable!" cried Albus. "Just because you personally believe that there isn't a cure—you're going to assume without any proof that Solomon is guilty, and you're going to lock away a person with much more noble intentions than you! How could you do this? Of _course_ this is why Solomon made the festival secret!"

"Secret, when he could have had the protection and the scouting power of the entire Auror office behind his efforts?" asked Harry, glaring. "I'm sorry, Al, but I'm just not buying it at all. And you know what? It shouldn't have been secret. You knew about it when I asked you over Christmas, didn't you?"

Albus nodded slowly.

"Harry," said Wilcox softly. "I think we've gotten enough out of your son for today. We shouldn't stress him."

"I agree," said Harry, settling down again. "Al, you need to get back to your dormitory and sleep. You'll have to try to get back into a normal routine for tomorrow—"

"You're going to leave it at this?" yelled Albus, looking back and forth between his father and Wilcox. "You're going to leave it at a bounty for Solomon's head, dead or alive, even though he was trying to do something to ease the suffering of hundreds of people?"

"Yes, except the last part," said Harry. "I'm not saying it was Solomon—it could have been someone controlling him, or disguised as him, which I've already said—but whoever it was could _not_ have been in the dark to the ambush; they must have been in on it. It's just what happened. It's something that we _know_—in fact, it's pretty much the _only_ thing we know. It's time to let this go, Albus. You don't know anything about this."

"I KNOW WHAT I SAW!" burst out Albus again. "I SAW AN INNOCENT MAN WHO COULD HAVE DIED WITH THE PEOPLE HE WAS HELPING!"

"You need a calming potion," said Harry, placing both hands on Albus's shoulders and pushing him back down into the seat. "You're losing control."

"He doesn't need a calming potion," said Wilcox as Albus was about to explode again. "What he needs is to forget."

"What?" said Harry and Albus together, turning.

Out of his pocket Wilcox extracted the bottle wrapped in cloth which had been handed to him by Madam Birchbaum. The cloth had frosted over.

"It's a potion to make you forget the most impactful memory of your recent life," said Wilcox. "In this case, it would be the slaughter you witnessed. With a drink, you won't remember any of the pain—and you'll forget these ridiculous presumptions you have about the innocence of the head of this assault."

"That's just what he needs," agreed Harry.

"ABSOLUTELY NOT!" thundered Albus.

"Come on, Al," pleaded Harry. "You'll forget all about your incorrect reasoning, and you won't remember that you've done it. These people have altered your thoughts, ensuring that right now, you are saying exactly what they want you to believe. They hope it will help them escape prosecution. We can't let that happen; they need to pay, whoever they are. And you declaiming their innocence, noble as it may seem to your addled mind, is just absolutely nonsensical and probably even detrimental to your recovery… but you can escape that, Al."

"I won't," hissed Albus, snorting like a bull. "I won't take that potion."

"Helio, please give it to him," said Harry, moving on Albus. "I'll make him drink the potion, just administer it to him while I hold him down."

"YOU CAN'T DO THIS!" raged Albus, twisting in his chair, aiming a kick at his father's hand, throwing a punch at the severe-looking face.

"Don't make me Body-Bind you, Albus," growled Harry harshly, taking out his wand.

"NO!"

Albus used his highest volume possible, and struggled against Harry's grip as Wilcox walked towards him, unwrapping the potion. It was belching vapor as the outside of the bottle slowly became encased in ice, now that it was free of the frosted cloth.

"NO—MADAM BIRCHBAUM SAID YOU HAVE TO TAKE A DAY TO DECIDE! YOU CAN'T GIVE IT TO ME NOW!"

It was a desperate attempt to stall for time, but it caused hesitation; as Albus sat there, breathing heavily, staring at his father, he pressed his advantage.

"You may be able to make me forget that incident," said Albus, "but you can't make my friends forget. They'll remind me if I ask. And you can't make _them_ forget, you're not _their_ father." He paused. "And no matter how much I forget about the festival, I will never forget that I will never forgive you if you do this to me right now."

Harry, after a long silence looking into his son's eyes, glanced at Wilcox, and shook his head in disappointment. "Helio… put it away. He can decide if he wants it or not tomorrow, after he's spent a day dealing with the after-effects of his experience."

Wilcox nodded and stored the iced potion in a cabinet under his desk.

"I'm sorry for putting you through that, Al," said Harry quietly. "I'm sorry you had to go through any of this. I'm just trying to do what I think is best for you; please understand that."

It sounded remarkably like something Wilcox would have said to Exo.

"You can decide later," said Harry. "Please get to your dormitory now. I insist you go to classes tomorrow; you've missed two days, and from what I've seen, you appear to be okay. I'll be back tomorrow, I still need get Helio's input on what other actions we'll need to take in the wake of this tragedy. If you need me, just come to this office and I might be there; if not, I will be soon."

Albus nodded.

"Then I'll be off," said Harry. "Helio, you can have the final words with Albus; there's something I assume you still need to say?"

Wilcox nodded.

"I'm going to tell the Aurors what I've heard here. I will see you again soon, Al. I love you."

"I love you, too," said Albus quietly as his father exited.

"Albus?"

Albus turned again to Wilcox, who was leaning with his elbows on his desk, hands clasped in front of his face.

"Thank you for saving my son," he whispered.

Albus started.

"Oh—you're—you're welcome, Professor."

"Nothing I do will ever be enough to repay you, but I will try."

_Oh, I'll take your Soundsplitter, then,_ thought Albus, and he wondered if he should actually say that.

"You may go back to your dormitory now," said Wilcox. "Have a good night."

O

"Where do you think you were?" asked Eftan as they trudged through the forest.

"I think this way, and keep your wand up," said Albus. "I don't know what else is in here with us. The Portkey wasn't too far in, but… still, something could still happen."

"This is so cool," whispered Alec excitedly.

"This is utterly terrifying," whimpered Aidan. "Why couldn't we have gotten Wilcox or someone to escort us into the Forbidden Forest, why do you think it's a good idea for the four of us second years to go in here alone?"

"Because we can't let them see the Invisibility Cloak," said Albus. "I don't want more people to know that James has that apart from the people who already do."

"Wilcox already knows," whined Aidan. "Why couldn't we have taken him?"

"It's more fun without an adult," said Alec. "Where's your sense of adventure?"

"I traded it in for a sense of self-preservation," snapped Aidan.

"You mean you traded it in for a sense of being a stick in the mud," muttered Alec.

"I heard that!"

"You were supposed to!"

"I think I remember this," said Albus breathlessly, as he stepped forward into the smallest of clearings, the light from his wand flickering on the far trees. "I think this is it. This is where the Portkey was. We took the Portkey back… Would it necessarily go to exactly the same spot?"

"Not necessarily exactly the same spot, but probably somewhat close," said Aidan. "All right, let's look around."

"We'll cover more ground if we split up," said Alec.

"NO," said Aidan.

Eftan shushed Aidan. "No, I think Alec is right—just nobody go too far. As much as we don't want to be defenseless and on our own, we also don't want to spend any more time in here than necessary."

"And we want to get back quick, so that nobody finds out I'm out here," said Albus; it hadn't even been an hour since Wilcox sent them back to the dormitories.

"Why couldn't we have done this while it was light?" grumbled Aidan, casting the light from his wand around.

"Because the longer something as valuable as an _Invisibility Cloak_ stays out here, the better chance it has of being picked up by something furry and hideous and wrecked," shot back Alec.

"Keep calm, and be quieter, guys," said Albus. "And for Merlin's sakes, get along!"

"Hey, er, it looks like blood here," said Eftan, a little queasily. "I think this is where you landed!"

Albus, Alec, and Aidan charged the spot, gathering around the small space where it looked like two bodies had displaced a lot of leaves, and many of them had dried blood all over.

"No," moaned Albus. "Then this is where the Cloak was… so where is it now?"

"We'll keep looking, it could have been blown away," said Eftan reassuringly.

"Or—" started Aidan, but he cut himself off and his eyes widened.

There was something moving in the distance, rustling leaves, and after a moment, it became clear that they were not alone out here.

Aidan backed away, but jumped back as something else moved in the direction towards which he was backing. The four friends formed a small circle and held their wands up, and then Albus's heart leapt into his throat as several dark shapes emerged from the tree line—

It was centaurs.

This was, of course, more agreeable than, say, Acromantulas, but even though Albus knew he had been saved by them yesterday, their presence was still unnerving: ten towering, muscular human torsos over ten strong equine bodies. Their glares caused him to instinctively back away, and his friends all did the same until they were pressed up against each other, eyeing the bows on their adversaries' backs, knowing they were dead in a second if the centaurs decided to attack—

"What are you doing here?"

The closest centaur, silvery-blond with deep blue eyes, spoke gruffly, and when none of them responded, he repeated himself.

"What are you doing here?"

"S—sorry," stuttered Albus. "We—we were looking—for something we lost—"

"This?"

The centaur held up the flowing Invisibility Cloak.

Then he smiled.

"It is yours," he said, tossing it to Albus.

Albus caught the Cloak and looked it over very quickly to make sure there were no damages; it was perfect as ever. He wrapped it around himself, and everything but his head vanished.

He took it off and looked up at the friendly centaur. "Thank you," he said earnestly. "Thank you so much!"

"Though the universe at large is not affected by something as simple as whether a lost item is returned," said the centaur, "it is never negative to introduce a little kindness into the world. There is no need to thank me."

"Enchanting, Firenze," said a bored-sounding centaur next to him. "But we really must insist that they leave now."

"Yes," said Firenze, turning back to them. "Unfortunately, this is the case."

"Why?" asked Albus, a little worried again.

"Because we cannot be certain that the forest is safe," said Firenze. "I am reminded of the days when the Dark Lord Voldemort stalked our forest. This time it is not a body, but a presence. An Invisibility Cloak will not protect you—only departure."

Albus rushed to a conclusion, surprising even himself as he pulled it out of his memory, and jumped on it—he had to ask, now that he'd thought about it.

"Is it Dismiusa?" he blurted.

The forest was absolutely silent.

"Dismiusa," replied Firenze, "is an old legend amongst the centaurs, and I am surprised you're aware of her legacy. I cannot say whether or not your thought is correct; all I know is what the stars have told us, and that a feral magic ripples through these woods. It is unnatural. Something is awakening, and Mars is bright."

"That's _enough,_ Firenze."

Firenze turned and nodded to his companions. "Then we will allow you exit," he said, folding his arms. "Please, for your own safety, do not reenter. We have attempted to tell this to your Headmaster and we may or may not have succeeded. You should stress this to him as well."

"Everything, or should I leave out the part you apparently weren't supposed to tell me?" asked Albus.

"You should leave that part out," said Firenze, and he smirked. "Goodbye, son of Harry Potter."

With that, the centaurs all turned as one and galloped out of the clearing.

Firenze must have noted the way Albus looked like Harry—Albus was aware that his father had known centaurs during his time here as well.

"I have a name, too," he mumbled.

O

He was standing in the field again, watching John Solomon, whose face had become bat-like with glowing red eyes. Solomon cackled wickedly, and then thousands of Muggles appeared in the distance, growing closer, readying their weapons, and then there was fire, and pain, and death, and his leg was shot again, but this time there was no Portkey, and no one to help him, and Exo's corpse stared unblinkingly at the red moon which was dripping blood—

He woke from the nightmare to find that Exo was shaking him violently; his eyes shot open to hear the sounds of his own screams filling the dormitory.


	11. The Fighting Spirit

_**Several little things here; you should read all of them.**_

_**Update: Changed the rating to T (from K+****) because I kind of realized that I just murdered a sh!tload of people in Chapter 9. Exploding faces tend to not be "suitable for children." ...Figured that it would be good to change that.**_

_**Next one-shot will be uploaded on Christmas morning, Tuesday, December 25, but of course, it may not be morning depending on where you live. It will be entitled "Dizzy Daze," if you're looking for it. The other one-shot I've done is entitled "Dear Tabby" and has already been uploaded... and just in case you were wondering, "Tabby" from that episode will indeed be appearing in this book.**_

_**I will be uploading another one-shot on Tuesday, January 1, New Year's Day. While I was writing Chapter 12, it became clear to me that my explanation of competitive dueling was unfortunately too long-winded to leave in the chapter; it would have been exorbitant exposition, taking up like a third of the chapter, and I decided I wouldn't make people scroll through that if they didn't want to. So I wrote it as a one-shot. Instead of Professor Desulgon explaining in Chapter 12 what competitive dueling is like, I'm going to upload a one-shot that is a mock article from a Wizarding periodical entitled "Jiggery Potpourri," where Dalton Desulgon consented to write about the works and intricacies of competitive dueling. So if you like that sort of thing, then you have two one-shots to look forward to!**_

_**Also, new schedule for updates is posted on my profile page. We're approaching Book 3!**_

* * *

CHAPTER ELEVEN

THE FIGHTING SPIRIT

O

"The fighting spirit," announced Professor Desulgon, "lives within all of you! You all have the ability to channel that combative power; you all have the means to excel in the area of dueling. You simply must learn to control your fighting spirit."

The Defense Association had once again picked up; it was the last Friday of January. Now, more than ever, seeing what he was up against, Albus wanted to learn to fight. But there was another reason he wanted to learn to defend himself, which he hadn't told to anyone yet… He was having recurring dreams about the real-life nightmare at the Lunar Eclipse festival. He'd had them every night since he refused the potion. And always, he was defenseless. Always, he was weak.

He didn't want to feel weak anymore.

He had patently refused the memory potion again, but this time he'd told all of his friends what almost happened the day before, so that they could remind him if he was made to drink the potion against his will. This time, though, his father had been very patient and apologetic, and seemed genuinely penitent for his earlier attempts to force-feed the potion to his son. But when Albus described the nightmare he'd experienced, Harry had nodded knowingly and lightly suggested the potion again, explaining that this sort of trauma was exactly why he wanted Albus to take the potion in the first place. He had also requested that Albus keep in touch if the nightmares continued or worsened.

Albus didn't know what his father planned to do if the dreams continued, but he had his own solution. Maybe, if he got stronger in life, he wouldn't have to feel helpless in his dreams, either. He would have gone to the Defense Association anyway, but he was concentrating more intensely than usual. Professor Desulgon seemed to notice—he was instructing the second year students, and the whole year was thrilled: Professor Desulgon was the most recent winner of the singles' _and_ doubles' Dueling Tournaments in the Summer Wizarding Games. If anyone was going to teach them to duel masterfully, it was Professor Desulgon. Albus readied his wand to prepare for his mock duel against Exo, who had considerably warmed up to him after their experience together.

"We have only about an hour left," said Professor Desulgon. "That's hardly enough time for proper instruction, I'd think, but I'll do my best. You all know the basics of Disarming and Dissipation. Some of you have advanced greatly in this field. I'm going to teach you how to advance even further, but it's going to be very hard for a lot of you. So don't feel bad if you don't get it today. And if you can't, don't push yourself. You'll get back to it in future years, so don't kill yourself over it. Just keep practicing the Disarming and Dissipating Charms."

He took a fighting stance with his wand. "This is what the masters do," he said. "You watch your opponent, and you parry him in a movement with the same direction as his wand is moving! And when you attack, do it in an unexpected direction. Don't always keep your wand in the center. Moving your wand while you attack is difficult to control, but it's also more difficult to defend. Think of it as adding momentum to your strike, and adding direction to your counters. You can't deflect all punches by holding out two hands directly in front of your body."

Albus held his wand in front of him with a firm grip, soaking it all in, preparing to take in whatever his instructor had to say next.

Professor Desulgon walked over to him. "Albus!" he announced. "You seem to be holding your wand tightly."

Albus nodded.

Professor Desulgon reached a hand out and smacked Albus's wand close the point where he was gripping it. The wand was torn from his grip, clattering to the floor noisily in the near silence.

"That's excellent form for the classroom," he said, "if you're trying to be as accurate as possible in the early stages of your schooling. Yes, you should continue to do that when you're turning a turtle shell into a turtleneck, but when you're dueling… it leaves you a sitting turtle. Er, duck."

Albus bent down to pick up his dropped wand, slightly embarrassed.

"All of you are doing it, really," said Professor Desulgon. "I've been paying attention to that. Every single one of you—except for Mr. McKinnon, who appears to be a natural duelist—"

Alec blushed furiously.

"—all of you are holding your wands like they're going to try and escape. Now, if you're a confident duelist, you can usually relax and your motions can become more fluid as a result. But if you're a nervous duelist, you tend to think you need a death grip on that wand, as if it will protect against an attempt to Disarm you. That won't work. What it _will_ do is slow down your movements and complicate your own defensive strategies. You have to hold your wand, obviously, but you can hold it more loosely."

Albus could see everyone relaxing their grip a little. A few people dropped their wands by accident. He tried to relax his grip, but it just didn't feel right. It felt like he wasn't exercising his strength as much as he should.

"All right, everyone, now use what I told you while you give yourself a refresher on Disarming Charms!"

Albus spent a while practicing with Exo, who was a pretty decent duelist. He definitely understood what Professor Desulgon was saying about the direction of his attacks—he found that Exo's Disarming Charms had a much higher success rate when Albus didn't match his opponent's movements.

Likewise, Exo was okay at defending, but when Albus unexpectedly attacked from a slightly different angle, Exo was never able to defend successfully. Albus was starting to realize that there was more to dueling, _much_ more, than standing, pointing a wand, and yelling funny words.

"Okay, everybody, time to practice Dissipating Charms. This time, I want you to find someone who's _not_ in your House, and team up with them! I reserve the right to change any groups if there's two people left over from the same House, though."

Albus turned around. He saw Aidan grab Eftan. Alec grabbed Mia Moon. Sylvester teamed up Sebastian Greengrass, and laughed as he noticed that the other two Greengrass triplets took the Cyrosta twins, Danielle from Hufflepuff and Dorothy from Gryffindor. It looked like two of the exact same pair: Archie and Ashton Greengrass were identical, and Dorothy and Danielle were very nearly so.

He kept looking around, but every time he saw someone that he at least vaguely knew, they were snatched up by someone else. Finally, it looked like everyone had a partner, but he was still alone. He looked over to Professor Desulgon, who glanced back and then walked over.

"No partner, Albus?" he asked.

Albus shook his head.

Professor Desulgon cleared his throat and raised his voice. "Who else doesn't have a partner?" he called.

No one else moved. Albus shifted uncomfortably.

"You'll have to be paired with me if there's an odd number of us here," said Professor Desulgon, and Albus flashed a smile in excitement. Professor Desulgon raised his voice again. "Let's try this again. Everyone who has a partner, please step either to the right or to the left so we can see if anyone's left behind."

Everyone stepped away, and there was in fact one person left: Scorpius Malfoy, whose eye twitched as he looked at Albus. He glanced desperately around for someone else without a partner.

"Ah, good, we have another loner," said Professor Desulgon. "Get to it, everyone. Dissipation. I'll be walking around and giving advice."

Albus waved amiably. "Hi!"

"_Expelliarmus!_"

Albus's wand flew out of his waving hand and spun through the air behind him.

He frowned. "What was that for?"

"We're supposed to be practicing Dissipation, Potter," said Scorpius stiffly. "Get your wand back and actually do what we're supposed to be doing this time."

_What's his problem?_

Albus backtracked and picked his wand up. "Okay," he said, trying to remain pleasant, though he was already irked. "Hit me again."

"_Expelliarmus,_" said Scorpius, much less enthusiastically this time.

"_Effracturo!_"

Albus easily deflected the attack.

"Now I'll hit you with the Disarming Charm," said Albus. "You ready?"

"Is my wand ten feet behind me?"

Albus's eye twitched. "_Expelliarmus!_"

"_Effracturo!_"

Scorpius's wand rocketed backwards.

"It is now," said Albus.

Scorpius, a tinge appearing in his pale cheeks, turned around and grabbed his wand back up.

"I noticed what was wrong," offered Albus.

"Did you?" asked Scorpius monotonously. "Did you also notice that you're not our dueling instructor?"

Ignoring this, Albus continued. "You were waving your wand down and up, with your wrist. It's more of letting the tip drop down by relaxing your grip, and then flicking your wand upwards, rather than a wrist movement. The smaller the movement the better. I'll hit you again."

Scorpius glowered but readied himself again.

"_Expelliarmus!_"

"_Effracturo!_"

The wand came out easily again.

"You didn't do it," chastised Albus, beginning to lose some patience. "I don't care if you have some pride thing about taking advice from me, though I don't know what your problem is with me, but I'm just repeating how I was taught to Dissipate, and obviously, your method isn't working. Give it a try."

Scorpius huffed and picked his wand back up with a very slight decline in his Malfoy composure. He steadied himself again.

"_Expelliarmus!_"

"_Effracturo!_"

This time, Scorpius was able to deflect the blow, and he seemed actually satisfied.

"Better?" asked Albus hopefully.

Scorpius glared at him for a moment; then his eyelids settled halfway down jadedly.

"Thanks, Potter," he said cordially.

"You're welcome, Scorpius, and my name is Albus," replied Albus.

"Your name is also Potter," said Scorpius simply, and raised his wand again. "So we should also attempt this with attacks in different directions."

"I suppose," said Albus in response to both statements, and he held up his wand to start defending.

They practiced until Professor Desulgon called them all back, and Scorpius managed to tolerate Albus's company fairly well until then. Pleased with this, Albus tried to make suggestions to help improve Scorpius's technique whenever he could. Scorpius tried very hard to hit Albus with his Disarming Charm, but couldn't get past Albus's excellent Dissipations; however, he was also able to deflect all attacks with his own Dissipations. When Professor Desulgon asked everyone to stop so he could be heard, Scorpius gave Albus a nod that could almost be construed as friendly before disappearing back into the group of Slytherins.

"How was it? Good? Dueling coming back to you?" Professor Desulgon smiled and looked around at the excited faces; they all knew what was coming next. "Good! Now I'm going to separate you by House. Gryffindors, please head across the hall. Ravenclaws can stay here. Slytherins to the right. Hufflepuffs across the hall and to the right. Duel everyone exactly once, and remember who you've beaten and who's beaten you; it'll determine who takes the spot next month for the Dueling Tournament in your year. Off you go, now!"

The Gryffindors who were in attendance all spilled out into the empty classroom across the hall. Albus stayed close to Exo, and he ended up dueling his friend first.

Albus lost his first match. Exo dueled phenomenally, and was always on the offensive; Albus couldn't sneak in a counterattack, and was eventually caught off-guard by a brilliant feint. He admitted defeat and, disappointed, trekked off to find someone else who was free.

But he didn't lose a single match after that. He didn't even lose against Rose—he took a page out of Exo's book and feinted to the left before attacking from the right. Albus was a little worried that this would cause Rose to be angry at him again, but she seemed to have settled down a lot, and she put an effort into congratulating him, even if it was slightly half-hearted.

Exo lost to Jonah and Rose, so Albus and Rose were tied for the least number of losses—Rose was undefeated except for her bout against Albus. When Professor Desulgon came to collect the results, he patted Rose on the shoulder.

"Sorry, Rose, you're tied with Albus for the lead, but Albus beat you," he said, shrugging.

"Wait, but, I beat Exo and Exo beat Albus," said Rose, looking around.

Professor Desulgon shrugged. "That's just how I was told to select the champion from each House. There's always next year, and you're a fantastic duelist, Rose."

Rose let her head droop sulkily but nodded.

"That's the way it goes," said Professor Desulgon. "Albus, you took the Gryffindor spot!"

"Who took the other House places?" asked Albus.

"Let's see," said Professor Desulgon, consulting his clipboard. "First round, you will be facing… Mr. Finch-Fletchley, from Hufflepuff. Then the winner of your match will face the winner of Mr. Griffiths from Slytherin and Mr. McKinnon from Ravenclaw."

Albus started.

"Well, well, if it isn't the entire fearsome foursome in the finals," chuckled Professor Desulgon. "You're the tightest inter-House group I've seen, in my two years of teaching and in my seven years of attendance. I think it's excellent and a great example."

"Thanks!" said Albus, still overjoyed from the fact that the constituency of the second years' Dueling Championships was his entire group of closest friends.

Professor Desulgon nodded and addressed the room.

"All right, everyone? You're free to go! Come to the tournament in a month on the last Friday of February, which is on, I believe…" He consulted his clipboard again. "The twenty-second of February."

"What day of the week is the twenty-second?" yelled Riley.

Professor Desulgon stared at him, dumbfounded.

"It's a Monday," he said, blinking slowly.

"Why would they have the championships on a Monday?"

Professor Desulgon smacked a palm to his face and dragged it down. "I'm sorry. It's actually on an If-you'd-paid-attention-you-might-have-heard-it-day."

"That's not a real day," observed Riley.

"I'm going to leave and bash my head against a wall," said Professor Desulgon. "You are truly sharp as a Quaffle, Mr. Andersen."

Riley turned to Scott. "That's a good thing, right?"

Scott snorted with laughter.

"Have a good night, all of you," said Professor Desulgon, waving them out. "I'll see you in class next week."

Albus charged out of the classroom first to find his friends. He found Aidan first, but waited until Alec and Eftan emerged to say the good news.

"We're the four in the finals!" said Albus excitedly, giving high-fives to all of them in turn.

"Merlin's beard, that's awesome!" said Aidan, laughing.

Alec looked back at Professor Desulgon. "He's such a good instructor. I wish we had him for more than just this one meeting."

Albus looked around at Professor Desulgon, who was stowing his clipboard in his robes as he exited the room. "Maybe we can."

"Come again?" said Eftan as Albus walked over to Professor Desulgon, beckoning them to come with him.

"Professor Desulgon, sir?" said Albus in his most hopeful voice.

The albino Animagus turned and gave the four a wide grin. "Hey, congratulations, you four! Have you been practicing together?"

"No, sir," said Albus. "I was wondering… if you could give us some private instruction? You know, for the Dueling Championships? It would be fair if all four of us were with you the whole time, right? We could put on a better show for the school next month if you could lend us some of your expertise, I'm sure."

Professor Desulgon didn't seem persuaded at first as his eyes flicked skeptically along the surprised group. Then his expression softened as he looked at Albus.

"I… am a busy man," he said carefully. "I don't just do schoolwork, you know. I still carry on my research."

Albus tried his most pleading puppy eyes.

"Albus… you, personally, have seen things that would throw many adult wizards into a spiral of despair. Many would give up in the face of the terror you've witnessed. But you… This has made you want to learn to _fight_."

Albus's expression brightened instantly, and now he had to try not to look _too_ eager at the success of his extortion.

"You're just like your father," continued Professor Desulgon. "You've got that fighting spirit. You all do. Of course I'll train you all further in dueling."

Fighting the urge to high-five all of his friends again, Albus issued a hurried thank-you and waved good night to his Transfiguration teacher, whose smile broke through as he turned to leave as well.

O

"So what was the consensus for dueling practice?" asked Alec, venturing over to the Gryffindor table at breakfast the next morning.

"Professor Desulgon said he'll send someone with an invitation later when he was ready," replied Albus. "He said there were a few people who needed some remedial Transfiguration and then he'd get to us, but he doesn't know how long it will take."

"Gotcha," said Alec. "Who're you taking in the next Quidditch match, Gryffindor or Hufflepuff? Though I think I know the answer."

"Yes, obviously I know Gryffindor is going to win," laughed Albus. "I imagine Aidan would disagree, but that's just because he thinks his House is flawless. I _know_ my House is flawless."

"Sorry to disappoint you, but Gryffindor and Ravenclaw can't _both_ be flawless," said Alec. "Anyway, I'm in Desulgon's House so I expect I'd hear from him pretty quick when it's all about to go down. See you then."

"See you," said Albus.

He turned around to get more pancakes, but before he started to reach, Exo nudged him.

"What's up?" said Albus, turning as Exo stuffed a copy of the Daily Prophet under his arm.

He stretched it out to read the front cover, and he understood what could possibly be important enough to interrupt pancakes.

**AURORS CONFRONT SOLOMON, ARE LAID TO WASTE**

_John Solomon, notorious leader of the Lunar Massacre which resulted in the death of half of the country's population of werewolves, was reportedly cornered by Aurors late last night, but was able to escape capture by an elite team of five top Aurors._

_Ron Weasley, Lynwood Chinch, Killian Aubrey, Theela Dane and Geri Stenet found Solomon using a classified tracking method. The method is classified so that those being tracked do not learn how to cover for it. They encountered Solomon in a deserted house in southern Poland. In the words of Auror Weasley,_

"_the house… came to life the minute he entered our sights. Was a [expletive] nightmare, that's what it was. Dishes flying into us. Walls exploding when we gained proximity. I've got cuts all over my arms and head and even one on my [expletive]. He took out two wands… maintained a combative stance but still professed his innocence. We told [him] that his innocence was a matter to be decided in his trial and tried to subdue him. He used two wands… but his left hand was missing [the last three digits] and he seemed to have a hard time using that hand. With his house on his side, though, he was able to make an escape route. He had created… a tunnel that fed far under the ground, past the range [of our Anti-Disapparition Jinx] and Disapparated. So he was able to escape even while the house was surrounded [by Aurors]."_

_Solomon knew he was being hunted and, curiously, reiterates his innocence while he continues to elude authority and sends Aurors to St. Mungo's. Not exactly the behavior of an innocent man, some might question._

_With the escape of Solomon follows the escape of other answers to unsolved mysteries. Who was manning the weaponry that caused so much devastation in the Oddolweld Pasture? Shortly after the attack, many concluded that it could not have been Muggles, due to their inability to discover magically protected locations, and that wizards must have been operating the Muggle weapons. However, it is also possible that Solomon gave them the secret to give Muggles the dirty job of murdering his victims, given the Muggles' attitude towards werewolves, or that Solomon hoped that Muggles would be blamed for the assault, or both. These questions will evidently remain unanswered until Solomon is brought to justice and made to confess._

Albus looked up when he was finished reading.

"They just keep talking about him like they know that there's zero percent chance that he's innocent," said Exo, clearly irked.

"I know," said Albus, deflating at the memory of their fathers' attitudes towards Solomon. "Despite there being just as much evidence to indicate that he's _not_ the one responsible for what happened at the festival."

"Gee, I wonder why he keeps swearing that he's innocent?" said Exo, huffing. "Must be because he's guilty."

A thought popped into Albus's mind.

"Oh, Exo," he said, voicing it before he forgot. "I know you probably told your dad this, but I never heard… How did you get that pamphlet for the festival without anyone else finding out?"

"It just appeared in my stuff one day," said Exo, giving Albus a look to convey that this was really all he knew on the subject. "I don't know how it happened. Dad had all my stuff scanned for hidden enchantments. He's really freaked about it, because he thinks Solomon is still out to kill me or something."

Albus shook his head. "Didn't you tell him about the festival? How Solomon was doing the curing spell and it affected you but not me—it knocked you off your feet, I didn't feel a thing!"

"Dad says it could have been like the enchantment on the pamphlet, where it only affected people with Transfections," said Exo, resting his elbow on the table and his cheek on his fist. "I've tried as hard as I can to convince him, Albus."

"I don't suppose…" said Albus, lowering his voice so only Exo could hear, and glancing from side to side, "that the ritual _did_ work, and you _are_ cured? We don't know that yet, do you?"

"No, we don't know yet," said Exo, "but believe me, I've thought about it. We'll know in a few weeks on the next full moon."

Albus breathed heavily, having just formulated that thought. If Solomon's incomplete ritual had still worked… or even if it had done just _something_ to alleviate Exo's condition, whether or not the full effect was there… this could clear Solomon's name for good. If they could prove that Solomon really was performing a ritual to cure werewolves, he was as good as innocent. Nobody could have anything against him.

That is… if his father and the Aurors didn't kill Solomon before the next full moon.

O

"For Albus Potter," said James triumphantly, snatching a pillow from one of the couches in the Gryffindor common room. He placed the letter on the pillow and held the pillow extended out in front of his body, and marched it to his little brother like a royal decree. He bowed and bent on one knee while Albus rolled his eyes and plucked the letter from the pillow to read it.

From the grading of his Transfiguration homework, Albus recognized the handwriting of Professor Desulgon, and his face lit up as he realized it was probably the invitation for the extra dueling practice he'd requested. He tore the letter open excitedly.

_Dear Albus,_

_As I mentioned, I have a few good hours to spare this evening. You and your friends may find me in our normal classroom as soon as you receive this letter; I've sent one to each of them as well. You may all come along at any time you'd like until curfew when I will have to send you back. Bring your wands. …Obviously. Heheh._

_~Dalton Desulgon_

Albus got up at once and headed to the door. He couldn't wait to get started on extra dueling practice, and he didn't want to keep his friends waiting.

Mind buzzing on what they might learn—Stunning or Patronuses or maybe the Imperius Curse—Albus entered the classroom to find Alec already there, and shortly after, Aidan and Eftan walked in together.

Professor Desulgon closed the door with a wave of his wand.

"I'd rather you didn't say anything about this unless directly asked," he said. "Just because I'm worried about a sudden clamor for private dueling lessons from half the school."

"We won't," chimed the four friends in unison.

"Thank you," said Professor Desulgon. "WANDS OUT!"

He shouted the last light like a drill sergeant, and they all jumped in surprise. Immediately, they all whipped out their wands—and in a flash, in under a second, all four of them were Disarmed.

"Always be ready!" said Professor Desulgon. An odd change had come over him. His eyes were sharp and focused; his tone was biting and intimidating. But somehow, he was just as likeable, if not _more_ likeable than his usual cheery and humorous self. Albus knew he was going to make a great dueling instructor.

"You're all holding your wands too tight," said Professor Desulgon. "Pick them up! Move it! Looser grip!"

"It doesn't feel right," protested Alec, voicing what Albus was a little bit afraid to say.

"What doesn't feel right?"

"Holding my wand loosely. I feel weaker."

"Since when is strength about tensing yourself for impact?" replied Professor Desulgon. "Strength is about _absorbing_ the impact and bouncing back, and readying yourself for a counterstrike. Strength is about constant motion and perpetual preparation. Strength is about being able to change your stance, your direction, your entire plan on a whim. Strength is about considering everything and being able to handle everything you are considering. Ready yourselves! Wands up! All four of you try to Disarm me!"

"_Expelliarmus!_" shouted four voices at once.

Professor Desulgon leapt nimbly to his right and Dissipated the closest charm; the other three missed him entirely.

"Still think that the key is to stand in one place and hold your wand in an unmoving grip?" asked Professor Desulgon, and with two waves of his two wands, they were all simultaneously Disarmed again. "If you weren't holding your wand so rigidly, you could move it faster. Or move yourself faster. Don't pick up your wands this time!"

Confused, Albus and the others stopped retreating towards their wands.

"I'm going to Body-Bind you all," said Professor Desulgon, swishing his wand; they twitched in anticipation, but all he did for the moment was make the floor much softer, expecting their falls. "And you're going to try to counter."

"We don't have wands," said Alec, puzzled.

"Yes, I know," said Professor Desulgon, causing a breeze to blow their wands further away. "I'm closer to you than your wands. You're going to counter by either running to me and trying to Disarm me manually, or by getting to your wands. Either way, you're going to have to be quick and evasive. Consider yourself in my position, and try to think how you would go about getting to your goal. If one of you succeeds on the first try in either getting to my wands or getting to yours, I'll award thirty points to the House of the student who does it."

The four exchanged competitive glances.

"I won't favor anybody," said Professor Desulgon. "I'll attack whomever looks easiest to take down, or whomever is closest to their wand or to me. I'm going to attack you when I hit the count of three. One—two—_three!_" He readied himself.

Alec turned around and dashed for his wand; Aidan dashed at Professor Desulgon in a zigzag pattern. Albus staggered forward, then reevaluated the situation and ran in an arc towards his wand.

He looked back over his shoulder to see Professor Desulgon easily hit Alec, who fell motionless to the ground. Eftan started to run for his wand as well, but he sprinted in a straight line and was also easily struck. Aidan fell next. Albus curved back to his wand and made a dive for it—

He was hit by an excellently aimed Full Body-Bind Curse.

Professor Desulgon tutted and revived them all in turn, and told them all to congregate back where they started.

"I'm going to keep doing this with you until you figure out how to win," said Professor Desulgon. "I won't award points anymore, though. Everyone get ready."

Albus set himself to run in a zigzag back towards his wand. In his mind he formed a plan. He would get close to his wand, and then jump back, because Professor Desulgon wouldn't expect it, and then he would leap back for his wand right afterwards.

"Tell me when you're ready," said Professor Desulgon.

They all nodded.

"One—two—_three!_"

He started his zigzag, but he didn't even make it halfway before Professor Desulgon correctly predicted his path and he fell to the ground with his limbs locked together again.

"You're doing something wrong!" said Professor Desulgon, and as Albus looked around, he realized that it was already over. "Figure it out and fix it!"

_What am I doing wrong?_ wondered Albus. As he retreated to the starting position, he glanced over at his other friends, who had all gone for their wands as well. _What else is there to do? Should I be rushing him instead of going for my wand?_

On the next try, it seemed that Aidan and Eftan had the same idea. The three of them rushed him as Alec ran back for his wand again. But Professor Desulgon still got all of them in the end again, and easily, too.

_What am I doing wrong?_ said Albus to himself again, racking his brain.

"Again until you get it!" barked Professor Desulgon, reviving them once more, and Albus trotted back, starting to feel sore.

Two more failed attempts went by. Albus switched up his plan both times, but both times, Professor Desulgon always dispatched them quickly.

"You're still not figuring it out!" said Professor Desulgon, actually looking frustrated. "If what you're thinking is, 'What am _I_ doing wrong,' then you still don't understand at all! What would you do if this was actually a situation where I was trying to attack all of you? Again, tell me when you're ready to start again."

Albus squeezed his eyes shut and tried to think. What _would_ he do if this was a situation where his life was in danger?

Then Aidan spoke up.

"Wait. Can we discuss strategy with each other?"

"_Yes!_" yelled Professor Desulgon, finally cracking a smile. "I never said you couldn't!"

"Oh," said Eftan, looking surprised.

"That's it, then," said Aidan. "We team up!"

"How?" asked Eftan.

"I say we have one person run to a wand," said Alec quietly. "It doesn't have to be their own wand, so he can't predict which one you'll be running to. Then the three others should run at him from different directions, zigzagging in from the left, right, and center."

"That sounds good to me," said Albus. "I'll go left, then. Who should go for a wand?"

"I think Aidan's the fastest," said Eftan. "And I'll go right, which leaves Alec up the middle."

"Okay," said Aidan. "That's the plan, then?"

"Yup."

"We're ready," said Aidan.

"One—two—_three!_"

They all bolted in different directions. Professor Desulgon smirked, and aimed at Albus first with the wand in his right hand and Eftan with the wand in his left.

Albus leapt to the side, just as Professor Desulgon had done, and avoided the jet of the spell. Eftan, however, was clipped and fell. He stabilized himself and kept running, keeping a close eye on the two wands, until Professor Desulgon fired two shots at him which he couldn't dodge. He fell to the ground, but fell facing Aidan, who took a sharp turn when he neared his wand, avoiding a Body-Bind curse, and grabbed up Eftan's wand. At the same time, Alec reached Professor Desulgon and grabbed onto his wrist.

"That's it," said Professor Desulgon, reviving Albus and Eftan. "I didn't know who to target, and you all dodged like professionals. That's what you have to do. Work as a team. And when you're dueling alone, be quick on your feet and wary of your opponent's movements. Go get your own wands and return to your starting position."

They armed themselves again.

"When you've learned more spells, you should train in a natural setting, or a makeshift house, with different surroundings than bare empty space," added Professor Desulgon. "Knowing your surroundings is also important. Therefore… _Obscuro itero! Obscuro itero!_"

Blindfolds appeared on Aidan's and Alec's eyes on the first wave of his two wands, and on the second shout, Albus's vision was blocked.

"Keep the blindfolds on for a moment," said Professor Desulgon. "I'm going to move, and you should all keep facing the same direction. Then, when I'm in my location, I'm going to make your blindfolds vanish, which is your starting signal. The first person to find me and Disarm me successfully will receive five points for their House. This is instruction in being alert of everything that is happening around you."

Then there was silence. Albus tensed and held his wand tight, then remembered Professor Desulgon's words of wisdom, and relaxed his grip slightly. Flexing his arm, he realized that he had much more motion in this loose stance, and he understood.

Then the blindfold disappeared.

Albus yelled "_Expelliarmus!_" along with his other three friends, before realizing that the thing in front of them was a mirage which flickered out of existence when the spells passed through. He turned around and saw at least a dozen copies of Professor Desulgon everywhere. Each of them were fairly confusing at first, but it was easy to tell they were fakes, mirages planted there as a distraction. Where, then, was the real target?

Being aware of everything… of _everything_… Professor Desulgon was testing their wit…

Albus looked upwards and spotted Professor Desulgon standing on a beam on the high ceiling of the classroom.

Triumphantly, he raised his wand, but it was too late—Eftan had caught on before Albus, and already Disarmed their instructor.

"Excellent, five points to Slytherin," said Professor Desulgon as the copies all faded away. "See, that's another important aspect to dueling. You must be vigilant and attentive, conscious of your foe's movements at all times, and if you lose him or her, you must be set to—"

He cut himself off abruptly.

"What?" asked Alec.

"I don't have a wand," he said, stroking his chin. "How am I going to get down…?"

They all laughed together, and Professor Desulgon scratched the back of his neck, looking a little worried. "Perhaps someone can throw me my wand…? No, I'd rather not risk… I'm a little too high up, anyway… Oh. Obviously."

He then jumped from his perch thirty feet above the ground.

Albus yelped in shock, expecting Professor Desulgon to smack into the ground and crumple in pain, but in midair he transformed into his Animagus form of a prehistoric bird and soared gently to the ground before transforming back.

"Oh," said Aidan. "Right."

"You don't need a wand to transform?" asked Alec, surprised.

"No, the Animagus ability is a Transfection," responded Professor Desulgon. "Metamorphmagi and werewolves also do not require a wand to transform." He picked up his two wands. "Eftan, I'm rather impressed that you managed to Disarm both of my wands. And I noticed that all of you are holding your wands much more calmly and comfortably. I'm very pleased."

They spent the next few hours performing new tasks that tested their wit and reaction time much more than their spell-casting. When Alec asked about this, Professor Desulgon replied that they would continue to learn new magic throughout their career at Hogwarts, and that their lessons here were more for the purpose of practicing those techniques which they wouldn't otherwise learn—that is, the mindset needed for dueling. That was something that needed to be taught in a setting like this; a small group with no time limits and no distractions.

"It's getting to be that time," said Professor Desulgon, looking at the clock in the classroom while Albus and his friends protested. "But you know, I'm really not opposed to doing this again. It's been too long since I've provided dueling instruction. Would you like to meet again?"

"Yes!" was the enthusiastic reply from all four.

"All right, it's a date. I'll be in the United States after this week, though—next Saturday for eight days; I won't be around that week and you'll have a substitute in Transfiguration. So how about three weeks from now—that is, the seventeenth? That would be the Sunday before the Dueling Championships."

"You're leaving for a week?" asked Alec sadly.

"Yes, I'm assisting in some research on Diwand Patronuses at the Katarina Pinzel school in California. One of the more famous American schools. We have an exchange student going there next year, in fact, for her N.E.W.T. equivalents… Zita Shaw, I believe was her name. Or Shawbank. I may have missed a syllable."

"It was Shawbanks, with an S," corrected Aidan. "I saw that in the _Prophet_."

"Good for you, reading the news," said Professor Desulgon appreciatively. "You should all read the news or educate yourself somehow else."

"The Wizarding World needs an Internet," remarked Eftan.

"I've heard about the Internet," said Professor Desulgon. "Seems it also has the capability to bring a lot of harm, though. I'd be perfectly fine without one here."

"It's only bad if the people who use it bad," noted Eftan.

"Welcome to the planet, how long's your stay?" joked Professor Desulgon. "Lots of bad people out there, kid. Enough to keep the good hands full, or haven't you noticed what's been going on?"

His last line rang in the air for a moment before he started ushering them out.

"Go, go, before you're breaking curfew. I'll see you all this week in class."

Albus stepped to the side as Professor Desulgon chivvied the others through the door, and his instructor threw a curious glance back. He closed the door as he came back.

"What's on your mind, Albus?" he asked concernedly.

"Too much," muttered Albus. "Um… I was wondering… if you could teach me the Patronus."

Professor Desulgon stared down with sympathetic eyes.

"No," he said apologetically. "I don't think I could. That's some very advanced magic you're after. And even with your remarkable skills… and your excellent wand… The Patronus is an incredibly advanced charm. You could ask Professor Plinky, I suppose, but I'm certain you'd be unlikely to master it before around the middle of your third year."

Albus huffed. That was when his father mastered the charm—he wanted to beat his father at this, too.

"You could always try, but I don't want you to be disappointed."

Albus nodded and turned to leave.

"Albus?"

He turned back around.

"Why didn't you accept the memory potion?"

Albus bit his lip as he formulated his response.

"I wanted to still know everything that was going on," he said, working his jaw back and forth. "There are only a few people left who know that John Solomon is innocent, too. …And I didn't want my memories taken from me."

"That's what I feared," said Professor Desulgon. "Your father told me everything that happened. You know that it wasn't about taking the memory away, right? It wasn't about depriving you of the ability to fight your father on the grounds of Solomon's innocence."

"Then… what?" asked Albus.

"You could always have relearned about what happened. This wasn't about making you forget the circumstances, this was about making you forget the trauma. I think you misunderstood your father's intentions."

Albus reddened.

"He was very worried that you were upset with him," said Professor Desulgon. "But I also hear you've been having nightmares? This is the sort of thing he wanted to avoid. Have you continued having these dreams?"

"Every night," confirmed Albus softly.

"Write to your father about it," suggested Professor Desulgon. "He's not going to make you do anything you don't want to do—in fact, I'm not sure the potion will work any longer. But I want to make sure you know that his intention was not to rob you of your convictions and experiences so that he wouldn't have to deal with you. It was because he was worried that this event might have a lasting effect on your health. If it does, I would advise you to talk to your father and Madam Birchbaum immediately."

"I understand," said Albus.

"Good. It's… late now. It'll be past curfew when you get back. I'll escort you."

They walked out of the classroom together. They were mostly silent, because the castle was very quiet, but about halfway there, Professor Desulgon spoke up.

"Do you want to learn to use two wands?"

Albus whipped his head around in surprise. "Yes!" he blurted immediately.

"You will probably get that chance next year," hinted Professor Desulgon with an air of mystery, and he smiled.

"Oh, come on," said Albus. "Tell me! What's going on next year?"

"I'm not supposed to tell you what's going on next year," he teased. "I can give hints, though. And using two wands? That's not the coolest part. Not nearly."

"You're evil, just tell me," begged Albus, laughing.

"Nope, I'm not allowed."

"Oh, come off it!"

"Nope."

Albus kept badgering Professor Desulgon all the way up to Gryffindor Tower, but his teacher did not yield. He was disappointed, but also excited at whatever Professor Desulgon was hinting towards. He climbed into his bed and, after some time fantasizing about becoming the best Diwand duelist of all time, he drifted off into a satisfied sleep, which was shortly interrupted by horrific dreams about the real nightmare at the festival.

O

Albus's dreams were wracked by gunfire and regular fire every night in the following weeks. His best solace, after the dreams worsened, was Holly Glissendale. On Valentine's Day, when the House tables were absent for dinner and instead replaced by dozens of tables for ten, Holly made a point to sit with him, and Albus felt a rush of affection of a different sort than he'd felt for any of his normal friends.

Still, the dreams became so bad that he dreaded sleep, and that was when he decided to stop being embarrassed about it and take Professor Desulgon's advice. He wrote to his father right before the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff Quidditch match, and then walked down to watch it with his friends.

"So, what's between you and Holly?" asked Eftan when the match was fairly far underway, bumping Albus with his elbow. "I thought you two had something, and then I thought you didn't, and now I think you might again."

"Oh, she's… hanging around more," said Albus. "Again. I like her."

"You like her?" pressed Eftan excitedly.

"And what about Alec and Mia?" asked Aidan, arching an eyebrow.

"W-what about us?" mumbled Alec, entirely failing at stealth in his reaction.

"You two had dinner together when we were sitting with Albus and Holly," said Aidan, folding his fingers and affixing a gaze on Alec. Albus had been wondering what happened to Alec while they were eating.

"So what?" he retorted, and broke into a bag of Tonguetinglers, proceeding to stuff his mouth in a clear display that the conversation was over.

"But, hey, whatever," said Aidan. "We've got dueling practice with Professor Desulgon tomorrow!"

"He'd better not ever leave again," said Eftan, watching Madam Duopold fly around the field as the referee. "Duopold is a fine Flying teacher and Quidditch coach, but she was god-awful at tutoring Transfiguration."

"Agreed," said Albus, an eye on his brother as James suddenly made a dive to the left, speeding straight as an arrow and then diving to the ground. He came up holding the Snitch.

"GRYFFINDOR WINS!" announced Barry Dunbar, clearly giddy, and the Gryffindor team all flew in towards James and embraced him in a group hug. Albus cringed, hoping that nobody pierced his brother with the broom handle in the air.

"Ick," said Aidan, annoyed at his team for having lost. "Well, it doesn't matter, I still have dueling practice to look forward to tomorrow."

"Yeah," said Alec. "What do you think he's going to teach us at the next—"

Then the ground shook and the stands rocked and people screamed.

The instant effect was like an earthquake. Most people who were standing fell down, and the stands kept shaking seconds afterwards. Albus's heart didn't just skip a beat, it stopped. It took him back to the Lunar Eclipse festival. What on _earth_ was going on?

There had been the most enormous slam he had ever heard—it had come from the forest. His ear drums were still ringing and his eyes still hurt from the jarring sensation. He turned his eyes to the forest in shock. The players who remained floating on the brooms had apparently seen the vibrations, or maybe even felt them—the air itself had seemed to ripple—and even they stopped and rose slowly in the air to turn towards the forest. Other team members mounted their brooms and rose with them.

There was a dust cloud rising among the trees deep in the forest, large enough to be visible even from this distance.

Now past its faltering, Albus's heart started to race at twice its normal speed.

_What the hell just happened?_

He thought of Firenze's warning, and hoped that the centaurs were safe, wherever they were. He thought of their message, which he was supposed to deliver to Wilcox but had never remembered to do, and he glanced to the faculty stands to find that Wilcox was not there.


	12. Rumors of War

CHAPTER TWELVE

RUMORS OF WAR

O

_Al,_

_I suspected this might happen. I'm very sorry to hear that your nightmares are continuing and worsening, but unfortunately, I'm afraid I don't have much advice to offer. If there's something that's still bothering you about the events that took place, go to Wilcox. If you're having trouble sleeping due to these dreams, consider seeing Madam Birchbaum. I would, however, advise you not to do so until necessary, or at least until you reach a fairly high level of discomfort, because time really is the best healer of wounds. Artificially changing your dreams will only work as long as you continue the treatment, and when you stop, it may be harder to endure the return of those nightmares. On the other hand, if you wait, they may wane on their own. I'd suggest hoping for that. Let me or Helio Wilcox know if you need any further counseling on this matter; I love you so very much and I hate to think you're in pain._

_-Dad_

_P.S. Mum wants to know if there's anything you'd like for Easter._

Albus sighed and refolded the letter, running a hand through his hair. He had rather expected his father to provide some brilliant solution to his problem. Did it count as "a fairly high level of discomfort" if he had gotten almost no sleep last night?

He'd woken up from an awful nightmare again, and hadn't been able to return to sleep. This time, in addition to the guns and the explosions and the blood and death, the ground was shaking and clouds of dust were rising up in the distance, like what had happened on the Quidditch grounds yesterday afternoon.

There had been no explanation available for the source of the tremor and the dust cloud. Wilcox had been in the forest, but not near enough to the source to witness what had happened, and nowhere near stupid enough to go try and find out. Last they heard, Wilcox was consulting the centaurs to see if they knew anything.

Albus came back to his senses upon a hand on his shoulder; he craned his neck around to see Professor Desulgon standing behind him.

"Wrote to your father?"

Professor Desulgon was staring at the letter on the table.

Albus nodded.

"Good. Glad to see there are no hard feelings. So how'd you like to pop on over to the classroom right after breakfast for our next dueling lesson?"

"Sounds good," said Albus, smiling.

"I'm going to go check with your other friends," said Professor Desulgon. "If I don't come back to you, assume that we're all meeting in the Transfiguration classroom whenever you all get out of breakfast."

Albus finished his breakfast at breakneck speed. He and Alec and Aidan waited for Eftan to finish eating, and then they hurried over to the Transfiguration classroom; Professor Desulgon was already there. They took their wands and headed to their preliminary positions again.

After a few warm-ups with the same sorts of exercises through which they were put on the previous practice session, Professor Desulgon announced that he was going to teach them a new charm.

"I know I said you all can learn new spells at any time from any book, and that mental and physical exercises were better," he said, "but I think this is a classic charm that has a lot of great uses and applications. The theory behind this spell can also improve your attacks. Try to defend against it."

He then swirled his wand in a wide circle and shouted, "_Circumpulso!_"

Albus recognized the spell from Molly's duel with Gabriella Garland in the Dueling Tournament last year. The four friends all shouted, "_Effracturo!_" to try and Dissipate the strike, but the crescent-shaped blades of light did not shatter the charm as they did most spells. The circle of light simply reformed and continued hurtling towards them, and knocked them for enough of a loop that Alec fell over and the rest of them had to stagger to catch their balance.

"The Pulse Charm is not affected by nearly any defense," said Professor Desulgon. "It will cause a brief imbalance in the stance of anyone whom it passes through. It is one of the most simple spells to learn, but its effect is enough to often knock out the groove of your attacker or cause enough of a disturbance to discover where they are hiding. I used this in a stellar combination with my partner Alfred Roy to take the Doubles' Dueling Championship in the 2016 Summer Wizarding Games."

"Are you gonna duel in the 2020 Summer Wizarding Games next year?" asked Alec excitedly.

"Maybe," answered Professor Desulgon, smirking. "Anyway, we had a great little plan. In the beginning of the match, as part of our Priming—I'll teach you later about the intricacies of competitive dueling—we Enhanced a Connectivity Charm, as many teams did, and we had code thoughts. When two people use the Connectivity Charm amongst themselves, they can have limited communication with each other via thought; it's a massively complicated charm that's widely used in the Auror Office. Our code thought—and if our Connectivity Charm was disrupted by the other team, our code shout—was 'Tumbleweed.' When one of us thought this, or shouted it, we would then use the Pulse Charm to try and knock our opponents around behind their Barriers. Do you want to try to learn it now?"

"Can you talk to us a bit about competitive dueling first?" asked Aidan, clearly fascinated by the subject.

"Of course," said Professor Desulgon, and he started explaining with great charisma about the amazing complexity of competitive dueling, assuring them he would be giving a quiz on the material at the end with point rewards for each question correctly answered. Albus tried to keep up, but there was an insane quantity of terminology for what seemed to be summed up nicely by "offense and defense." For a sport whose only rule was to not do anything illegal, it was amazingly elaborate.

"All right," said Professor Desulgon when he'd finished explicating, "so—using both categories and subcategories—how would you categorize _Expelliarmus?_"

"That's a Vital-Aggression," said Aidan, "right? Because you're trying to deprive them of their strength but it's still not a victory until you've incapacitated them."

"Correct, it's the strongest V-Aggression in the sport," replied Professor Desulgon. "Five points to Hufflepuff. What's _Effracturo?_"

"It's a Junctive-Barrier," said Eftan confidently.

"Five points to Slytherin. It is in fact a Junctive Barrier—you could make an argument that it is a J-Barrier-V-Aggression-Dichotomy, because on the random chance that the spell is aimed and timed perfectly, the effect can resonate into the opponent's wand and dislodge it. That's not the intended purpose, though, unless you are extraordinarily skilled, and so I wouldn't classify it as a Dichotomy.

"How about a Trip Jinx?"

This one made them pause for a moment.

"L-Barrier," said Alec. "Er—Lock-Barrier."

"Right, five points to Ravenclaw! It acts to block your opponent's movements. And last one… what about _Periculum?_"

"A Static Enhancement," said Albus.

"Indeed sending up sparks is an S-Enhancement, because it doesn't do anything!" said Professor Desulgon excitedly. "That's my favorite category. They are red herrings, things to distract your opponent from your real plan. Five points to Gryffindor. You all cancelled each other out, actually, so let's have one last question: What's _Circumpulso?_"

"Wide-Aggression!" shouted Eftan just before Aidan shouted the same thing.

"Very good, Eftan, five more points to Slytherin. Now we'll talk about the theory behind the Pulse Charm and its effective use. I think you'll find it important for dueling in the future if not now.

"The Pulse Charm was one of the first widely known spells. You can see it drawn on cave walls in Aboriginal cultures, Native American cultures, ancient Chinese, ancient Greek, ancient Egyptian cultures… everyone knew it. It was used often, because, unlike other spells, the Pulse Charm has a range that extends outward in a circle like an explosion, and hits everything around you, which has some pretty handy applications. It was used in early Wizarding police departments as crowd control—send off a Pulse Charm in the middle of a noisy group if you want to get everyone's attention, and everyone rocks around like there's an earthquake. You get attention pretty quickly.

"Despite its very practical ability to strike everywhere at the same time, it's actually a very simple spell to learn. And despite the fact that it's a very simple spell, it has very important implications for other magic that you'll learn. Repeat after me: _Circumpulso._"

"_Circumpulso,_" chimed the foursome.

"That's it. Now watch me."

Professor Desulgon held his elbow in the air at eye height, and he kept his forearm parallel to the floor. Then he spun his wand in a circle that was still mostly parallel to the ground, like he was twirling a lasso.

"That's the wand movement. Everyone practice it, now."

Their instructor spent a while correcting their stances and wand movements. After they were finally corrected on the smallest details of their circular swishes, they were permitted to try the charm. Alec got the hang of the spell fastest, and started helping them.

Performing the Pulse Charm was odd, as compared to most spells. Albus had a harder time with Charms than most other spells, but this one had an interesting theory. It felt like it would take more energy to accomplish than usual, but Alec insisted that the key was to let out a normal amount of energy as if it the energy was simply a sudden thought that just occurred to you. Trying to interpret this, Albus worked on the charm for about five more minutes than the rest of his friends, but he finally got it. It was harder to work on the charm than usual, because he kept getting knocked over by his friends' successful attempts.

When they were all finally able to produce the circular pulse for which Professor Desulgon was looking, they were asked to think for a while about what felt different about the execution of this spell as compared to other spells. Following a moment's silence, Alec correctly deduced that it was about the lack of a necessary direction in their attack.

"Think about it," said Professor Desulgon. "When you send out a Disarming Charm… you don't swish your wand in a circle, your jet is going to go off in a random direction and your target isn't going to be Disarmed. When you Transfigure an object, you're aiming at it. This charm doesn't require a bearing. But that's also why it's weak. Now, can anybody tell me what this might mean, in regards to the relationship between strength and direction of an attack?"

"Spells that have a wider range are weaker," posited Albus, hoping he was right so he could impress his teacher.

"Yes, exactly. And lastly, can anyone tell me, using that last answer, why I think knowledge of the Pulse Charm is important for all other spellwork?"

"If you give your spell less range, it's more powerful?" suggested Aidan.

"Fantastic!" said Professor Desulgon. "Yes, this is what I have been getting at. If you have a spell with wider range, it is much more difficult to give it power. It drains Kinesis much faster—you all know a good amount about Kinesis, right? We teach about that much more than we used to, now that it's so much more understood.

"By making your spell more concise—by shortening the distance it travels, slowing it down, or reducing the size of its scope—you will increase the power of your spell. And you can always increase the scope of your spell, speed it up, or allow it to travel further, using the mentality you've developed from learning this spell. It will reduce the spell's effectiveness—if the spell jet is larger, then the power is more spread out—but it covers a greater amount of space and may catch your foe unawares.

"You can see this effect in the most powerful spells. Take the Killing Curse, though I'm not supposed to talk about the Unforgiveable Curses… Whatever. It is much harder to hit someone with the Killing Curse, because it's a much thinner jet than most spells, and it doesn't have as much Enerracity. Of course, there are exceptions—such as Metronoming, Complex Channeling, Concurrence, and especially Telescoping… er… I won't explain those, it takes too long. You'll learn about all of that if you take the new electives next year.

"Circumpulso was a personal favorite of mine because there is only one way known to counter it. Usually, even if your opponent knows what the counter-spell is, he or she will not be quick enough to be able to bring the counter-spell to mind and use it in time. The counter-spell is, fittingly enough, _Circumprotego,_ the Ring Shield Charm. Anyway, I told you I used this to win the Doubles' Dueling Tournament. My partner Alfred was _fantastic_ with this charm—he could control it so that it was weaker in my direction and stronger in our opponents' direction. I would parry it, and it would cause them enough pause for us to get in a few strikes against their weaker or isolated Barriers so that we could pierce their defenses. It's all ludicrously complicated, but think of it this way: Using the Pulse Charm gave us enough of a 'window' to break into their house before they broke into ours.

"It's less effective in single dueling, I think, but it's still sneaky and unexpected enough to give you an advantage if you use it right. I've used it three times in tournament play in singles. Once was in the Summer Dueling Championships of 2016, against Delerior Brackle; I beat him twelve seconds later. The second was in the finals of the same tournament… against Hermione Granger! Your aunt, Albus! Except she'd studied up on me and saw how I beat Delerior, so she wasn't too befuddled by it. And once was in the semifinals of the International Dueling Tournament that same year, against Isthichus Mecchus. He actually surrendered directly after the barrage I implemented as a follow-up to that attack. So, it has more than proven its worth in my book."

"How do we dodge it if we can't do the counter-spell?" asked Aidan.

"You just have to try to keep your balance," said Professor Desulgon. "You could always fall down on all fours to stay steady. That also helps because your opponents don't often aim at the ground, they aim for the chest or head. Though you'll obviously need to get back up pretty quickly or you're dead. Enhance yourself with _Salimotor_."

"I know that one!" exclaimed Alec triumphantly.

"Yes, you used it last year," said Professor Desulgon. "I remember that display of spellwork because it knocked me off my feet. I was glad not to be dueling you!"

Alec blushed furiously again, as he tended to do when he was complimented—he wasn't used to being complimented.

Professor Desulgon had them start a competition where they all played at once: they all tried to knock each other over using only _Circumpulso,_ switching up the power and speed of their attacks. Albus found that it was harder than he thought to stay standing when he was being bombarded by pulses from three different angles, but he had a natural sense of balance (probably developed from his Quidditch pursuits) and won the second and third of three matches, getting ten points for Gryffindor; Alec won the first match.

Eventually, they all got too tired to carry on. Knowing that they were drained of their energy and thus unlikely to perform many more successful spells, Professor Desulgon let them leave. But Albus had been waiting for a while now, and he wasn't going just yet. His curiosity was boiling over.

"Hey," he said, walking up to Professor Desulgon when his friends had left.

Professor Desulgon looked around to see that the room was empty apart from them, and he pursed his lips. "Hello, Albus."

"You probably know what I'm going to ask you," said Albus, and his teacher nodded. "Do you know what happened in the forest yesterday? …Do any of you guys know what the tremor or the dust cloud was?"

"Listen, Albus," said Professor Desulgon, folding his fingers and sitting down on a chair that appeared only as he sat. "I know you and I have a very good relationship, but you have to know that there are some things that cannot be disclosed to the students."

"So you do know what happened?" asked Albus, eyes widening.

"I haven't got a bloody idea what happened," responded Professor Desulgon, and Albus knew he was telling the truth. "And I'm fairly positive that if we ever _do_ know what happened, we would be forbidden to talk about it to you. No, I don't know what happened and I couldn't take a guess if I wanted to. Before you go around asking, nobody else has a bloody idea, either."

"Not even Professor Wilcox?" asked Albus.

"Professor Wilcox has a bloody _insane_ idea," said Professor Desulgon, "but that doesn't mean it's a good—"

"Does he think it's Dismiusa?"

Professor Desulgon was unreadable.

"I have a feeling he wouldn't want me to discuss it with you," he said, "whether or not you gave the correct answer to the question."

Albus took this as a "yes."

"Have we investigated it?"

"Yes, with extreme caution," said Professor Desulgon.

"What was there?"

"What on earth about our previous conversation makes you think I would let you know this?" sputtered Professor Desulgon in disbelief. "I seriously can't talk to you about this, Albus, the whole thing is classified. I think you should get back now."

Albus didn't want to leave yet; he still had more to ask. He thought about the warning from the centaurs, which he had never delivered to Wilcox because it would have meant admitting that he snuck into the forest again.

"What does it mean that Mars is bright?"

Professor Desulgon's face turned serious instantly.

"When were you talking to the centaurs?" he demanded.

"I—it was Firenze, we—" stuttered Albus.

"You told us that you were unconscious when he saved you on the night of the festival."

"I was, I—"

"Albus," grimaced Professor Desulgon, sinking his head unto his hands, "do you mean to tell me that you have ventured _back_ into the forest since the incident? How on Earth did you deem that responsible in the slightest?"

"We—"

"An Invisibility Cloak can only do so much, Albus. There are things in that forest against which the Invisibility Cloak would do nothing to protect you—"

"Like Dismiusa?" pressed Albus.

"_Enough of that!_" shouted Professor Desulgon, shouting far more harshly than Albus had ever heard from his Transfiguration professor.

Albus recoiled a bit, but was still left hanging without an answer to the initial question.

"But what does 'Mars is bright' mean?"

"The centaurs," sighed Professor Desulgon, "are stargazers. They believe that planetary movements are predictors of events to take place on Earth. Mars is the bringer of war. The centaurs believe another war to be at hand."

There was silence.

"Is it?" asked Albus quietly.

"I don't need Mars to see that it's probably true," whispered Professor Desulgon, putting his head back in his hands and running his hands through his hair.

Albus stayed in the spot, staring.

"Which is why you should _never again do something as astronomically idiotic as venturing into the forest,_" snapped Professor Desulgon.

Albus nodded and turned to exit the room as fast as possible.

O

"So, John Solomon still hasn't been captured," said Exo hopefully.

"Mm," said Albus, getting into the last of his sleepwear.

"And the full moon is going to be the day after tomorrow," said Exo, lowering his voice so only Albus could hear. "Tuesday. I might still be cured… or semi-cured… We don't know yet."

"Yeah," said Albus. "Oh—yeah! That's right. I forgot about that. Wow, that's… that's big. That's exciting." He gazed off at the wall.

"Are you all right?" asked Exo. "You seem a little distracted."

"Just… worried," said Albus. "I hate going to sleep. I hate these nightmares."

"Did your dad write back yet?"

"Yep."

"What'd he say?"

"He said I have to wait for it to wear off."

Exo frowned. "That's rather unhelpful."

"I don't know why I'm having these nightmares _every single night,_" complained Albus. "I never think about that catastrophe during the day. But I can't go a night without it haunting me, making me dread sleep and freak out on waking up. I hate it."

"Maybe you'll stop tonight," said Exo. "You've got to at least hope so. You can't not sleep."

"I guess you're right," said Albus. "The problem is, I've tried it, and there's nothing I can do about the fact that I get woken up by the nightmares and don't want to go back to sleep."

"Go to Madam Birchbaum," posed Exo.

"I don't want to," said Albus. "I'm not weak. I just have to… get through it. Tough it out. It has to stop eventually. And that's what my dad said, isn't it?"

In his mind, Professor Desulgon gave him an irritated look. _Since when is strength about bracing yourself for impact?_

"If you say so," said Exo. He yawned and snuck under his covers further.

Albus clambered into his own bed and pulled the covers over his body. His bed was no longer a safe haven, a location to let everything go; now it was a place of fear and panic and dread for what would come in his sleep. He closed his eyes and kept his mind off of the subject, and hoped that he had done enough today to exhaust him beyond the ability to dream, or else that he had learned enough of dueling to fight off these visions.

His eyes fluttered shut, and when they opened again, he was in darkness, but he wasn't in his bed. He was lying in grass again, and he knew instantly where he was. But he didn't realize it was a dream until a bullet slammed into his chest and he woke up sweating, on the brink of screaming.

He knew that a good amount of time had passed from when his head had initially hit the pillow, but it was still pitch-black. He checked his clock to see that it was only a little past midnight. He still had most of the night to go.

Groaning soundlessly, he heaved himself out of bed; he was wide awake with terror now and there was no way he was getting back to sleep for a while. And he certainly didn't want to go back. He fished through his trunk until he found the Marauder's Map—after the horrible things that he had been put through, James hadn't asked for the map or the Cloak back yet—and, using the light of the fire in the common room, he decided to scan it to see what everybody was up to.

First, he checked for Aidan, Alec, and Eftan, who were all asleep, as he'd suspected. Then he checked for Wilcox, but their headmaster was not on the map anywhere he could find—maybe he wasn't at Hogwarts tonight. Albus scanned his office and the halls and the library and the kitchens—

He tilted his head and pressed his face to the parchment. In the kitchens were two dots, one with a name label he recognized: _Molly Weasley_.

What was his older cousin doing out of bed this late, with someone else? He checked the label: _Dyson Stenet_. He'd heard the name before… Molly had mentioned that boy over the summer… were they dating?

Realizing that their proximity and isolation probably meant they were snogging viciously, Albus rolled his eyes and flipped a different flap over the page, catching two dots standing in the middle of the hall with yet another name he recognized: _James Potter_. He was near one of the main entryways with a dot labeled _Tabitha Floren_.

…What was this? Tabby Floren was a Slytherin in James's year. What were the two of them doing alone together?

Albus had nothing better to do, why not find out? If his brother was snogging this Slytherin like Molly was probably snogging Dyson, the Gryffindor future-Auror she'd been verbally fawning over all summer, this would be an excellent opportunity to get some excellent dirt on his brother. He swiftly swooped into his trunk and grabbed the Invisibility Cloak and took the Marauder's Map out of the common room.

It wasn't until he exited that he felt such a rush of adrenaline from breaking the rules. But he was wearing an Invisibility Cloak, and had a portable enemy detection device; who was going to apprehend him? Feeling much more confident, perhaps as a result of the disdain he'd experienced from feeling weak in his dream, he sped off down the stairs to find out what James and this Slytherin girl were up to.

He raced to the ground floor as fast as possible; not knowing how long James and Tabby were going to stay, he had to get down with all due haste. Their dots, however, did not budge, and Albus heard them as he turned the final corridor towards the door that led towards the forest.

"…stupid, stupid, _stupid_. Stupid. _Stupid!_"

"You mentioned it was stupid," said James, disgruntled.

"I knew you were going to do it even after I specifically told you I'd never talk to you again! I come down here and wait in this _freezing_ atrium because I just know you too well; you deny it all for the first five minutes and then tell me _this?_ What do you have to say for yourself? Note: an apology and a swift return to your dormitory would be ideal!"

Wow, who had the nerve to order _James_ around? Albus crept closer.

"You know me too well, shouldn't you know the answer?" retorted James, rolling his eyes. "Fine, why don't you come with me?"

Tabby gaped at him in disbelief. "Because I don't want to _die!_" she said haughtily, a little too loudly for comfort. "And because I don't want _you_ to die, either, and I'm going to scream for a teacher if you even think about going out there! What gives you the confidence that you can just waltz in there and waltz back out whenever you please? You think the Acromantulas daren't harm that pretty face? Think all the—all the Devil's Snare or whatever's out there is going to agree that you're too famous and awesome to eat just because you're Harry Potter's—"

James reached forward and grabbed the front of her nightshirt; pulling her in, he kissed her hard on the lips, and she deflated in his arms reluctantly to kiss back. Albus gasped a little bit, and clapped a hand to his mouth, realizing that the gasp had been audible.

James broke away in a twitch as if he had heard. Tabby looked disappointed but still annoyed.

"You can't _kiss_ the Acromantulas into submission, either, though I'd like to see you try," she said amusedly.

"Hey, it's all right," said James. "I've got a _secret weapon_."

"A secret weapon?" scoffed Tabby. "I assume this is something along the lines of 'making a puppy-dog face?' That'll certainly get the flesh-eating trees off your back."

"Sh, look," said James, digging into his pocket. As he extricated them, Albus peered at them, but was unable to see from this angle; James was shielding it from view in cupped hands, holding them slightly out to Tabby. "Come in real close," he added.

She walked right up to him, and trying to match her footsteps to remain unheard, Albus also sneaked closer, dying to see what this "secret weapon" of James's might be, seeing as how he had neither the Cloak nor the Marauder's Map at present.

"Why are you hiding it in your hands like that, there's no one else here," huffed Tabby. "Just show me."

"No, you gotta look," said James, shaking his cupped hands. She sighed and peered in. Albus drew slightly closer again, almost close enough to see.

"What…?" said Tabby, confused. "I don't—"

"No, don't say anything, just look for a little longer and I promise you'll understand," said James mysteriously.

Albus, closing the distance and maximizing his discomfort, cast his eyes at James's hands with insatiable curiosity, and strained himself on his tiptoes to look—and was thoroughly bewildered to discover that James was holding nothing.

Then James flailed his arms around unexpectedly and, upon striking Albus, clenched the folds of the cloak and whipped it off of his brother with lightning speed.

"It's an Invisibility Cloak!" said James gleefully. "See, I _told_ you we had a secret weapon!"

He turned to his now-visible little brother.

"And I knew I heard _you_, or at least someone invisible, snooping around," he grinned triumphantly.

Albus flushed, still holding the map, knowing that James would probably request it back now. He glanced over to Tabby, who had apparently almost suffered a heart attack at his appearance, and waved meekly.

"You've had quite a run with these, apparently," said James, "but you've skimped on your deal… I was supposed to have these back weeks ago!"

"Yeah… well… you never asked for them," mumbled Albus.

"You're right, I didn't. I won't charge interest. You wanna come with me and the girlfriend?"

_So he is considering Tabby to be his girlfriend,_ thought Albus with a sense of satisfaction on this dirt he'd uncovered. Then something struck him.

"Come with you… where?" he said cautiously, though he was pretty sure he'd gleaned it from Tabby's earlier context clues.

"And not _with me_, I'm saying good night," she said disdainfully. "But if you want to take your Invisibility Cloak—note that it's an _Invisibility_ Cloak, not an _Invincibility_ Cloak!—and skedaddle into the Forbidden Forest like you own the place, I'd suggest you let your little brother stay and live so he can tell everyone why you don't come back!"

She marched off down the hallway with her nose in the air.

"The—The Forbidden Forest?" stammered Albus, hoping he was still somehow not correctly deducing the destination.

James grinned like a maniac. "We're gonna go find out what that noise and smoke was in the forest the other day," he said, clearly in ecstasy.

He then grabbed Albus's arm with one hand and the Cloak with the other; the older brother dragged the little brother out the door and pulled him forcibly all the way into the forest.

* * *

_**Wow. We're already 80% of the way to another new book! Can you believe it? I can't. Only a few more chapters until I have to write another Sorting Hat song!**_

_**"Dizzy Daze," the one-shot from Harry's point of view regarding the Auror Office's reaction to Dizzy the mulunctapol, has been uploaded. Check it out-it's a ton of backstory that you won't otherwise get, and it could have stood as a chapter but I like to keep the story to what Albus knows as much as I can. You will probably appreciate the knowledge you get from that one-shot, even if you don't like one-shots. "Dalton Desulgon's Demonstrative Dueling Didacticisms," the one-shot that poses as an article written as a summary of the main methods of magic used in competitive dueling, will be uploaded on Tuesday, New Year's Day. (That one's just a one-shot.)**_

_**I know there hasn't been much stuff on classes for a long time; that's going to return next chapter. So is some other stuff. And who knows? You might find out something about what happened in the forest. And who knows? I might just introduce you to a couple very definitive and important villains in the first chapter of the third book.**_

_**(Tee-hee. I'm such a tease.)**_


	13. ARM

_**Oh BOY was this chapter was longer than I thought! I think the next two chapters will be long, too. Who knows, we might even pass 100,000 words in this story, which I wasn't expecting at all when I started it.**_

_**By next book, I'm going to have little blurbs on my profile page about every important character, including a list of Albus's entire class at Hogwarts and all the teachers of every subject. That way, you can keep track of everyone, because I know there's a lot of original characters. I'll be working on that starting some time this week. I'll update you next chapter on how that's going.**_

_**Three one-shots have now been uploaded based on characters from this series: Dear Tabby, Dizzy Daze, and Dalton Desulgon's Demonstrative Dueling Didacticisms, which all start with D for some reason.**_

_**That's all for announcements for today. Enjoy!**_

* * *

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

A.R.M.

O

"_What are you doing?_" shrieked Albus.

"I told you," said James giddily. "We're going to go find out what caused all that ruckus in the forest yesterday!"

"_ARE YOU INSANE?_"

"Yup!"

"Let me go, _why are you dragging me with you?_"

"You've got to get a sense of adventure, little brother," said James, continuing to pull Albus along the frosted ground in the bitter cold of the darkened forest.

"I think I've already had enough adventure for one year, possibly one life, thank you very much!" protested Albus, trying to snag his shoes on a root or something so that he could get out of his brother's surprisingly strong grip.

"Yeah, there was that," said James, but he still didn't let go. Albus stopped struggling; they were getting deeper in the forest, and he didn't want to go back alone now. He also didn't want James pressing on by himself.

"James, please," begged Albus. "I don't want to go back into the forest again—the centaurs told me not to, they said it was dangerous and that not even Wilcox should be—"

"We have the Invisibility Cloak," said James, waving it around.

"The centaurs said there were things that not even the Cloak could protect us from!"

"Liar," said James.

"I'm not lying! Professor Desulgon said the same thing!"

"You'd say anything to make me take you back to your nice safe bed, you wimp! Where's that Gryffindor courage?"

"It's been superseded by common sense!"

"Pfft, go join the Ravenclaws if you want common sense," said James, rolling his eyes. "If you want _adventure,_ man up like a Gryffindor and stop being such a baby."

"At least babies don't die!"

"You're _going_ to get us killed if you keep shouting like that!"

"Maybe I'll keep shouting, then!"

"Maybe I'll put a Silencing Charm on you!"

"Maybe I'll go to Wilcox and tell him you snuck into the forest!"

"You wouldn't." James's eyes narrowed and they paused.

"Watch me!" said Albus.

"Think about it," said James. "How many times did Dad go into the forest and how many times did _he_ die?"

Albus remained silent.

"Come _on_. Don't you want to know what happened in the forest yesterday morning? The teachers certainly aren't going to tell you!"

"Dad told us to stay out of trouble," grumbled Albus, but he knew that he was already starting to give in to James… he really did want to know what happened.

"We could be the only ones in the world to know," said James.

"The teachers already sent out a search party and they still don't know."

"They were probably too careful. They'll never find anything if they're afraid to get up close and personal."

"They won't die if they don't get up close and personal, either."

"Are you coming with me or not?" asked James. "If you're coming, say so now. If you're not, then I'll escort you back from here… but I'm taking the Cloak into the forest anyway, and the map for when I get back."

Albus heaved a deep sigh. "Fine, I'm coming."

"Good," said James, apparently confident the whole time that Albus's answer was going to be a yes. He threw the Cloak over both of them and they kept on the forest path.

"I'm going to kill you," Albus kept muttering. "I'm going to kill you."

"That'll be fun to see," quipped James. "Come on! We've got to go until the big gnarled tree that looks like Professor Plinky's head before we get off the path, and that's not for a while from now."

"How do you know so much about the forest?" asked Albus suspiciously.

"Professor Valon and Wilcox aren't the only ones who like to wander around the forest," replied James. "It's been a bit easier now that I've got the Cloak, too. I usually take my broom with me but I thought Tabby would be coming…"

"What sort of stuff have you seen in here?" asked Albus interestedly.

"I ran into a pretty darn big spider once," said James. "I think it was a young Acromantula. I had to fly away really fast, the thing was on me like a heat-seeking spell. Then there was this awesome flock of hippogriffs. One time I saw this really cute hedgehog… not sure how it survived in the forest with all these giant spiders and stuff, but I haven't seen anything else that small and cute since. Oh, and a troll one time when I went super-deep."

"A troll?" asked Albus.

"Forest troll, I think. It was eleven feet tall or something and it was the worst-smelling thing I've ever smelled."

"I didn't know there were trolls in here."

They walked for a while in silence; Albus was getting nervous about talking out loud when there were so many creatures around (like trolls) that might overhear and discover them. He didn't think he wanted to fight a troll… his father had fought a troll in his first year, but had insisted that he and Ron had gotten lucky and that they probably should have died right then and there.

Then Albus heard a rustle, and he threw a stiff hand in front of his brother and got ready to bolt.

"What?" asked James, and Albus took the hand and slapped it across his brother's mouth as something crossed the forest path.

It was big and dark and skeletal. It was hard to tell from this distance, but it looked like the carcass of a winged horse. Albus watched it, his entire body filling up with fear, and he tried to breathe as softly as possible as it crossed in front of them. The Invisibility Cloak seemed to work on whatever the heck this thing was, and it passed by without incident.

"Bloody hell," exhaled Albus.

"I saw it, too," said James.

They started walking again, but cautiously.

"That thing... what was that?" asked James. "I saw it, but I didn't get a really good look at it."

"It looked like a dead hippogriff," said Albus.

"Maybe it was a hippogriff," pondered James. "Could have been diseased."

"It seriously looked _dead_."

"Well, I can't imagine…" He trailed off.

"What?"

"I think it's… Yep, there it is."

James pointed to a gnarled old tree with roots slightly protruding around the edges. The bottom of the trunk bulged out and was so twisted and knotty that it looked like…

"There's the Professor Plinky's head tree," stated James triumphantly, and Albus bit back a howl of laughter.

The tree looked miraculously like their professor's head. It had a giant pile of knots where the scraggly beard would be, and two big holes where the eyes should go. It seriously looked like a tree version of Professor Plinky with a tall column for a hat.

"That's hilarious," said Albus, still shaking with suppressed hysterics.

"Isn't it? Come on, from the angle I saw the dust cloud—and I got a good angle, I was in the air—I think we should bear left here, and then go northeast in the easiest way, trying to keep in a straight line but we can go around places that have all thorns and stuff if need be, we don't have to go through 'em…"

"Would you stop talking?" pleaded Albus, still immensely paranoid.

"Fine, Al," said James, shrugging. "We're almost there, anyway, I think, but I didn't really have a good sense of distance out in the forest, but the effect was probably big enough that there's a large area we'll be sure to find even if we're slightly off-target when we're—"

"STOP TALKING," whisper-shouted Albus.

James shrugged again and Albus grabbed the Cloak tighter around his face. They kept strolling, and Albus became more and more convinced that this was the worst idea he'd ever had, worse than going to the Lunar Eclipse festival instead of holding Exo back like Aidan should have let him do.

The forest here was stiflingly dark. The moon was close to full, but the trees blocked out all of its light. The only light was scattered from the scarce openings and emanating from the lighter path, but the farther they strayed from the forest path (which seemed to be thinning anyway) the worse the lighting became.

After several minutes of silent plodding through an inch of snow, they crossed through a particularly thick patch of trees—so thick it seemed unnatural, in fact. And when they crossed, they instantly knew they'd found the place, and Albus instantly had the strong certainty that they needed to leave or something horrible was going to happen.

"Oh my god," breathed James.

The plant life here was almost completely destroyed. There was a small circle of trees that were growing unnaturally close together, but at the far end of this circle, it looked like someone had cast a Reductor curse at the trees: they were splintered and lying everywhere; the bushes were all torn to shreds, the rest of the flora trampled. In addition, everything in the clearing was brown and dead-looking. The only thing that seemed to flourish in here was the grass, which was a foot and a half tall, sharp, and serrated.

In fear of tearing the precious Cloak (or his precious body), Albus refused to take another step inwards. James, his nosiness getting the better of him, stepped out from under the Cloak and walked a little further into the clearing, ignoring Albus's silent but frenetic protests.

"Ouch!" he yelped as he started to wade into the grass. He jumped backwards and looked at his legs, which were now covered in blood. "That grass is—insanely sharp!"

"Shut up!" hissed Albus, lifting the Cloak. "And get back under here!"

"It's… ruined," said James. "_Lumos!_"

Albus cringed as James cast a light around from his wand. This was going to draw any creatures in the area directly into an attack on them…

"Not light enough," said James. "_Expecto Patronum!_"

Out of his wand burst the silver… tuatara, was it? It just looked like an iguana to Albus. James's namesake, Pokey, dashed into the center of the clearing, unaffected by the sharp grass, and shed light onto everything in the area.

"Bloody Merlin," gaped James. "Everything's all… _bloody._"

The trees in the area, now that they were illuminated, were seen to be showered in spurts of crusted blood. It was unmistakable.

"Can we go now?" whined Albus.

"Yeah," said James, clearly shaken; his tuatara shuddered with James's dread and dissolved into the night air, leaving them in darkness again. "Yeah, I think we can go now."

It was much harder to see now that they had just been exposed to light, but Albus still wanted to cover ground much faster than they'd done en route. The blood on the trees was the final straw for him. Amazingly, it seemed to have also been the final straw for his normally imperturbable brother, who evidently was just as eager for a quick exit from the forest as was Albus. The unflappable James had been… flapped.

"Y-You think something was fighting down there?" stammered James.

_Or someone,_ thought Albus, _whose name starts with a "D…"_

"So… anyway… where was the Portkey to the festival?" asked James in an attempt to stay cool through conversation. "It was in the forest, right?"

"Yeah, but I don't remember where," said Albus in between gasps for air. "I don't _map_ the _forest_, because I have a sense of self-preservation."

"Why didn't you tell anyone about where to find the Portkey?" inquired James. "Just curious."

Albus tried to recall his reasoning.

"We… we thought we could… we didn't think anything was going to…"

A wave of utter horror washed over him, worse than the bloody scene in the forest into which he'd just stumbled moments ago.

This was why he'd been having nightmares. This is why he couldn't escape the nightly torment of the memory of all the dying werewolves.

Because he had as good as killed those people.

If he'd told his father… or Professor Wilcox… and they had intervened in the festival… not a single one of those men, women, or children would be dead.

He clapped a hand over his mouth, feeling nausea worse than he'd ever experienced, certain he was going to throw up.

"Albus?" asked James worriedly, inspecting his own bloody legs as they stopped.

The rest of the night was spent in a daze. He didn't really notice that they got safely back to the school, or back to Gryffindor Tower without being caught. He didn't truly hear the Fat Lady give them a talking-to for waking her up, nor did he notice that James took both the Invisibility Cloak and the Marauder's Map back to his dorm. It was all a bad dream; he hoped that life was the bad dream, and that he could rectify everything in his dreams by telling his father where to find the Portkey to the festival. It was all his fault. He could have stopped it… and he didn't.

And for the first time, he wished he'd taken the potion to forget it all.

O

"You seem distracted," said Holly.

"Huh? Er—seven, I think," said Albus.

"What?" said Holly, wrinkling her nose at him.

"Wha?"

"I said, you seem distracted."

"Oh. Do I? Er. I thought you asked me…" Albus wrinkled up his nose, too. "Actually I have no idea what I thought you said."

Holly twiddled her ice shard necklace and giggled. "Yeah. You might be a little distracted."

"What are we doing now?" asked Albus.

"Transfiguring this pear into a perfect stone sculpture of a dragon," said Holly. "You haven't tried yet."

"Sorry," said Albus. "_Conviso verto_."

The pear morphed into a dragon with two legs and no tail.

"That's a pretty god-awful dragon," said Holly earnestly.

"I know."

He buried his face in his hands. He hadn't been able to think straight since the escapade into the forest with his brother on Sunday night… it was now Wednesday morning. The nightmares had become so bad that he barely got any sleep at all. It was affecting his brain. And it didn't help knowing that he was responsible for the deaths of hundreds and hundreds of people; it made all of his stress ten times worse. But he couldn't explain this to the ever-cheerful Holly.

"You might need a little push in the right direction," said Holly, grinning from ear to ear. "Or, maybe a hard shove… possibly a long drag!"

Albus laughed. "What?"

"That was your joke!" laughed Holly. "You told it to me last year, I told you I'd remember it for a good time to use it again!"

"You remembered a joke I made last year?" said Albus, smiling in spite of everything. Holly always cheered him up.

"Yeah! And then I showed you this necklace—and you told me that water is sometimes wet, that was so funny I almost died."

The word "died" triggered his slow slip back into gloom and despair, which was only interrupted when Exo walked into the room.

He shot back up in his seat—this was Exo returning from the night in his father's study where he may or may not have transformed, depending on John Solomon's success. This could give their case so much backing if Exo was cured—

But the look Exo gave him as he sank into his usual seat told Albus clearly that nothing had changed. Exo still looked almost as skeletal as the creature Albus had seen in the forest the night before…

Thinking about the forest reminded him of his mistakes again, and knowing that Exo was still doomed to suffer life as a werewolf and that John Solomon was still being unfairly hunted made everything even worse than before.

"Hey, Holly," he asked, trying to drag himself out of the depression with conversation; maybe Holly could brighten him up again. "You reminded me of some stuff from last year. You know that riddle that the Ravenclaw door asked? 'What happens when an unstoppable spell meets an unbreakable shield?'"

"I remember that one," said Holly, nodding and grinning.

"Well… now that it's not the question anymore…"

"There's always more than one question."

"Okay… now that it's not a question anymore, can I know the answer?"

Holly leaned closer to him with a finger raised, and poked him on the nose. "No."

"What? Why?" complained Albus.

"Ravenclaw secrets," said Holly.

"Oh, come off it! What's the point of not telling me?"

"They might reuse the question," said Holly.

"You're just torturing me," said Albus.

"I'll tell you when we graduate," replied Holly, smiling to herself.

"Stop it! What's the answer?"

Albus found himself laughing with her, even though Professor Desulgon had to yell at them to get back to work. He could forget everything bad when he was with Holly. He wished she was there when he was having bad dreams.

"I wish you could sleep in my bed with me," mumbled Albus.

Holly started and blinked furiously. "Um, what?" she asked, blushing deep red.

Albus clapped a hand to his mouth, realizing what he'd just voiced. "Oh—Oh, no! That's not what I—see, I'm having these bad—this isn't—I didn't—er—"

Holly laughed and gave him a little jostle.

"You're such a joker," she said.

Seizing onto the pretense that he had been joking, Albus nodded vigorously and then immediately set himself to working on his dragon sculpture, his face heating up to roughly the temperature of the Sun's core. He hoped she didn't think too much about that statement.

"Pack up, everyone, time to go," said Professor Desulgon. "You'll have all of Monday to practice and then the test on Transfiguration detail accuracy will be during our double class on Tuesday. See you all then."

Professor Desulgon walked over to Albus after this announcement.

"Albus, what's eating you?" he asked. "I know there's something. You're distracted and you look like you haven't slept in a week. Is it the nightmares?"

Albus sighed and nodded.

"I'm going to take you to Professor Wilcox," said Professor Desulgon. "I know where he is right now. I think you should talk with him."

O

They didn't head towards the headmaster's office; instead, they turned down towards the dungeons. Albus felt like a zombie, walking around in a slump with half-lidded eyes. They reached Professor Valon's classroom, passing a group of fifth years who were exiting.

"Al!" called a voice; Albus looked around to see his mentor, Gillian Gartrive, waving at him.

"Hey," he responded, rubbing his eyes.

"Yo, we've got to meet up some time soon to talk about your class selection for next year," called Gil. "I have to give you counseling on the sorts of electives you can take. Sunday morning in the common room after breakfast? Is that okay for you?"

"Er. You bet," said Albus, still unable to process information. He turned back around and entered the room to find Wilcox instead of Valon, piling up papers and straightening the piles while waving his wand to put ingredients away.

"Where's Professor Valon?" asked Albus, glancing around the classroom. He didn't have Potions today, but he was wondering if Professor Valon would be back for their class tomorrow.

"Something came up," replied Wilcox. "He'll be here tomorrow. Did something come up with you? How are you feeling? You look terrible."

"I think he needs counseling," said Professor Desulgon. "About the nightmares."

"Ah," said Wilcox. "Thank you for bringing him here, Dalton. I'll see you at the staff meeting tonight on the second year advising."

Professor Desulgon spoke a few more words with Wilcox before leaving, but Albus didn't hear them. He stared at a corner and waited to spill his heart out.

"Albus," said Wilcox, his brow settling.

Albus jerked out of a daze and realized they were alone in the dungeon.

"What's wrong?"

Unexpectedly, his eyes welled up with tears. He didn't want to cry—he was a Gryffindor, a proud Potter, brave and strong, like his dad—but he couldn't stop it.

"I—I killed them, sir," he sputtered, lips quivering. He could barely say the words with the spasms in his throat. "It's my—I'm—I'm the reason they're dead."

"What?" said Wilcox, his eyes shooting open. "Who's dead?"

"The werewolves," sobbed Albus, and he sunk to the floor, his legs giving way, and he hated the way he must have looked right then. "The people—all the poor people at the festival—thought they were going to get cured—if I had told Dad where to find the Portkey, I—I _knew_ where it was but I didn't tell him and he could have stopped it, the Aurors could have protected all the people but I didn't s-say anything and I l-let them d-die!"

He completely broke down at the end of the confession and tears streamed down his face; he stuffed his palms over his eyes and shook silently.

"Oh, Albus," said Wilcox soothingly, sinking down to rub his shoulders. "Is this… Is this why you're having the nightmares? You feel responsibility for this? Albus, don't… It's…" He paused to gather himself. "Never, _ever_ blame yourself for this. There was nothing you could do."

"I could have—"

"Albus, you were under the Siren Song Charm," said Wilcox sternly. "You were under the spell of the parchment which was _specifically designed_ to prevent you from doing exactly what you've described that you should have done. There was nothing you could do to escape its spell."

Albus stopped sobbing for a moment; the words impacted him like a blow to the chest, but he'd never felt a blow to the chest that felt this relieving. Something clicked inside him, and he realized that, though he'd never expected to find solace at the words of his headmaster, he was finding it.

"Do not blame yourself. Please."

Albus wiped his nose and stared at the floor.

"If anyone should be blamed, it is me."

Albus's head shot up and he stared at his headmaster in confusion.

"It should have been up to me," said Wilcox. "I knew Exo was acting more strangely than usual; I knew he was hiding something. I didn't investigate—he'd reacted so adversely to my probing in the past, I… I thought he would never forgive me if I probed further. And so I didn't pursue this."

"No—" Albus started.

"I cannot _believe_ I didn't keep an eye on him when he transformed back," said Wilcox, pressing a white knuckle to the bridge of his nose. "I should have known it was a lunar eclipse, I should have been there for when he transformed back, but I didn't think he would ever… If I was a better father, this wouldn't have happened."

"No, it's not like that," protested Albus, surprised to find that suddenly, _he_ was the one consoling as Wilcox's eyes squeezed farther and farther shut. "No, Exo would never have let you. He was determined. I found that parchment by chance—you couldn't have read it—Professor, there was nothing you could have done!"

"We've traded places," chuckled Wilcox softly, opening his eyes. They were dry, but they glistened. "Are you all right, Albus? You know it's not your fault. Conversely to me, there was nothing you could have done to prevent this. It was too well-planned for a twelve-year-old to thwart."

_So were Voldemort's first two attempts at returning,_ thought Albus humorlessly.

"I want you to tell me if you keep having the nightmares," said Wilcox seriously, standing up. "Please. Tell me tomorrow, and the next day, about whether you have them or not. I hope they will go away—I hope that you know you bear no responsibility in the slightest for this tragedy. And don't forget—you saved my son's life. I'll never forget that, Albus. I will _never forget that_."

That night, Albus slept soundly for the first time that week.

O

Albus slept well the next day, too. He hoped that this was the end of the nightmares.

It was a good thing he was getting rest, too, because that Friday night was the Dueling Tournament. He didn't attend either of the optional electives courses that day; he skipped Quidditch Studies and Current Events for some last-minute practice with the Pulse Charm in an empty classroom. After dinner, he remained in the Great Hall with most of the students as the Heads of House set to work creating an arena for the duels.

Albus twiddled his wand nervously. He hadn't been in the championships last year… that had been Rose. There were points on the line, and his whole House was going to be cheering him on… The thought made him sick.

"Hey, little brother, I hear you're in the tournament," said James, walking over.

"Yeah," said Albus queasily. He also had yet to forgive his older brother for dragging him into the forest, which James still didn't seem to understand was—what was the phrase Professor Desulgon had used? _Astronomically idiotic_.

"Don't worry, you'll do great," said James. "You're perfect little Albus Potter. Child prodigy and all. You'll win."

This inherent expectation for Albus to win made him even more uneasy. Now losing was going to be far more embarrassing when it happened (and he knew it would).

"Go get 'em," said James, patting him on the back and returning to his friend group.

It looked like the tournament was finally going to start. The professors backed away from the arena, apart from Professor Longbottom. Their Herbology professor looked like he'd had a long week, and his speech was short and to the point.

"Listen up, everyone!" he shouted, and the room fell silent. "Rules: Either incapacitate your opponent or relieve them of their wand. No help from the audience. No excessive force or you will be expelled. I'm serious. First year tournament first and we go up by year. A win in the tournament will get you points for your House. First year matches will be worth three points per victory, five points per victory for the second years, seven for the third years, and so on until fifteen points per victory for the seventh years. The audience does not have to worry about flying spells because a barrier will be in place. Let's start right now. Mickey Rigby of Gryffindor and Zinnia Zambicki of Slytherin, please come up here; your match is first."

Mickey Rigby was a Gryffindor first year who looked like a third year. He also looked scared out of his skin. Albus thought he would in his life never see a more terrified face than Mickey's until he saw Zinnia Zambicki's, which looked as though she was stepping into a snake pit surrounded by Acromantulas.

"The next match will commence immediately after the conclusion of this one. Bow to your opponent and begin!" Professor Longbottom whipped his wand up in the air as he left, and a dark but mostly transparent shield rose around the quivering first years. Albus scoffed; none of the House champions had been this nervous in _his_ first year.

The match was over with one Disarming Charm from Mickey. Zinnia tried to Dissipate but failed spectacularly. Mickey reddened and tottered awkwardly off the stage and Zinnia looked close to tears; Professor Valon soothed her and patted her back while he escorted off.

"Right, then, Claudio Fawn of Hufflepuff, Chester Glissendale of Ravenclaw…"

Albus blinked and then looked around to see Holly flying at him.

"That's my brother!" she squealed excitedly. "That's my brother Chester, he got the Ravenclaw spot for the first years!"

"That's awesome," said Albus. "Is that your only sibling?"

"No. I have another brother who'll come in our fourth year, but I am the oldest."

Albus glanced back up. Chester Glissendale was small and thin like Holly and had the same big green eyes and slightly orange hair. He was just as cute as his sister.

Albus gave himself a little mental slap for calling a boy "cute" and settled himself to watch the match. He felt conflicted about whether to root for Gryffindor or for the brother of the bouncy strawberry blonde next to him.

Holly's brother was a remarkable young duelist. He reminded Albus of Alec. In his first bout against Claudio Fawn, who limped onto the stage like an injured… fawn, he struck a great combo with _Tarantallegra_ and _Mimble Wimble_, which caused his opponent to be unable to speak or move (apart from the furiously dancing legs). Professor Longbottom deemed this as "incapacitated" and awarded the victory to Chester. Chester also won his second duel in the finals against Mickey Rigby with a _Petrificus Totalus_ that was so powerful that Mickey couldn't Dissipate it. Ravenclaw took six points and Gryffindor took three, and Holly squeaked with joy and jumped up and down.

And then…

"Albus Potter and Aidan Finch-Fletchley!"

Albus stiffened and then walked up to the arena amidst the cheers. Now he had no reason to look down on the first years for their display of nerves. As he climbed onto the stage, he thought to himself that it was going to be very easy to hold his wand loosely like Professor Desulgon wanted, because he could not summon the strength to hold it tight. His arms felt no different from the air around them. He looked over at Aidan, who had taken the other side of the stage, and then they bowed, and Albus tried not to soil himself right on the stage. He had a very unsettling feeling that Aidan could sense his fear like a predator.

But then, when they began, he came _alive_.

He struck a stance he didn't even know how to strike. His wand held in a perfect grip out in his front, all nervousness fleeing his body, he began to attack with Disarming Charms and Full Body-Binds and defended with Dissipations. Aidan was keeping a similar strategy, but looked much less calm.

Albus sliced a bit to the side, but Aidan was expecting it. His Hufflepuff opponent was playing it safe, and waiting patiently for Albus to mess up. But Albus knew he wasn't going to mess up.

_Tumbleweed,_ he thought to himself with a grin—it was Professor Desulgon's dueling code word for the Pulse Charm.

"_Circumpulso!_" he shouted. He twirled his wand in a circle, taking advantage of the fact that Aidan wasn't attacking back.

Aidan was struck by the spell, tensing himself for the impact he knew he couldn't dodge. He began teetering on the brink of falling, and with some sense that slowed down time for his evaluation of the scenario, Albus saw his chance.

"_Locomotor Mortis!_" he yelled, directing his wand at Aidan's feet.

His precariously perched foe was unable to block the curse directed below the reach of his wand, and even with an attempted Dissipation, the Leg-Locker slapped Aidan's ankles together, and he finished toppling to the floor as Albus put forth a Disarming Charm. Aidan would have been able to Dissipate this jet, but his shoulder hit the floor before he could finish the movement and broke up the effort. Aidan's wand sailed out of his hand, and Albus snatched it out of the air, surprising even himself with his Seeker-like skill.

"Potter is the victor," said Professor Longbottom, holding back a clear smile. "Next match. Eftan Griffiths versus Alec McKinnon."

Albus let his mind catch up to what just happened (it had been happening too fast) and realized that he'd just won a match in the Dueling Tournament—five points to Gryffindor. He grinned widely, hid away the grin for a humble thanks to a congratulations from Aidan, and then grinned again as Aidan walked away and the other second year Gryffindor boys congratulated him.

"Bow and begin!"

Eftan didn't stand a chance, and he appeared to know it from the look on his face when it started. Alec first cast a spell to Eftan's left which Albus had never seen before; it caused a strong wind to whip across the arena. The breeze couldn't be felt behind the barrier, but everyone could see Eftan's sleek brown hair flapping around in it. With this distraction, Alec aimed a Full Body-Bind at Eftan's left side, and it took so long for Eftan's wand arm to fight against the breeze that he was struck; the match was already over. Albus glanced over to Professor Desulgon, who nodded knowingly and clapped.

Albus eyed his Transfiguration teacher suspiciously and hoped that he wasn't offering Alec extra lessons without the rest of them. Alec seemed to have a whole bunch of surprising new spells up his sleeve every time he dueled. Was he _really_ just that natural a duelist?

"McKinnon wins. Mr. McKinnon, you will now face Mr. Potter; bow and get to it." Professor Longbottom appeared to be wearing thin on patience. Albus momentarily wondered why he was so irritable, before drawing a conclusion that it might have had something to do with the dust cloud and tremor—Neville was the Herbology professor, and there had been a disturbance in the forest. He had been recruited to investigate the incident with the mulunctapol; perhaps he had been investigating this incident, too, and was low on sleep.

Albus pulled himself up onto the arena and tried to take a calming breath before the match. It didn't work—he was just as nervous as the first time. He decided to let it all loose and hope that the strange certainty would come over him again when he dueled.

Then they bowed, and Alec struck quickly when the match begun, just as Albus felt himself somehow switch into a state of mind that enhanced all of his senses for the duel. He stopped himself from laughing out loud at the exhilarating rush of adrenaline and blocked Alec's Disarming Charm.

"_Rictusempra!_" called Alec.

"_Effracturo! Expelliarmus!_"

"_Effracturo! Circumpulso!_"

Albus had been ready for it, and he steadied himself, absorbing the impact to the best of his ability and parrying the next attack nicely. After a few more back-and-forths, he decided to go for his own Pulse Charm. He just had to wait for a momentary pause in the onslaught which would give him enough of a window to get off the slow spell…

"_Duodramocula!_" roared Alec.

Albus was able to Dissipate a jet from the spell, but he remembered the attack too late from Alec's match last year in the same tournament. It was the Seeing-Double Jinx, and it had _two_ jets that needed to be countered. Albus was struck in the head with the other spell, and he spun around with a wave of dizziness washing over him. He glanced back at Alec and saw two copies of his Ravenclaw adversary, both raising their wands.

"_Petrificus Totalus!_" bellowed Alec with an air of finality.

"_Protego!_"

An invisible shield, small but effective, blocked the blow, and he heard the crowd gasp—the Shield Charm was not an easy feat. Albus recalled Uncle George saying something about how a lot of Ministry employees couldn't produce a Shield Charm and were almost woefully dependent on their Shield Hat line of products. But Albus had been practicing, and he was now able to get enough of a Shield Charm to get the desired effect.

From what Albus could gather with his addled vision, Alec looked surprised at this development, and Albus didn't blame him. When _Duodramocula_ had been used against Aidan in the first year tournament last year, Aidan had been unable to accurately see where his foe lay, and had aimed in the wrong direction. With the Shield Charm, though, Albus didn't need to be accurate—it covered a fairly wide ground.

Now was the time to strike back, while Alec was startled by his last move, and he could think of another spell that was unaffected by visual miscues… _Tumbleweed_…

"_Circumpulso!_" cried Albus, unleashing the Pulse Charm at last as his Shield Charm faded. It spread out in all directions, and would hit Alec even if the Seeing-Double Jinx impeded Albus's sight.

"_Circumprotego!_" came Alec's response.

_What?_ thought Albus in panic, watching two Alecs jump into the air and spin their wands like pinwheels. The Pulse Charm wrapped around the range of the protective charm and fizzled out, and Alec spun right back around and let loose with a Disarming Charm which Albus didn't have time to block. He tensed his hand around his wand but felt it slip away despite his grip.

He sighed, but it was a battle hard fought, and hard won for Alec. He'd tried as hard as he could. He walked over to shake Alec's hand but missed (the effects of the Seeing-Double Jinx still clouded his eyes) and then tried to scoot off the edge of the arena and tumbled to the ground awkwardly due to his inability to see straight. He hoped no one was watching, though he knew that everyone was.

It wore off in time for the next set of duels, but he was disappointed to see that Roxanne was not the Gryffindor champion this year—it was a confident-looking boy named Lyman Dane who was fighting the Hufflepuff champion, Grace Garland.

"James!"

Albus turned around; apparently his older brother had been walking towards him to say something, because James was close by and facing him until he turned around to find the person who had called his name. A large-chested woman with big brown hair whom Albus vaguely recognized was striding towards James.

"And Albus!" said the woman. "How good to see you? Are you excited for the Dueling Tournament?" She looked up. "Those two look… old for first years…" A large frown crossed her face. "Oh, no, I haven't missed it, have I?"

"Missed the second year tournament? Albus already faced off in the finals," said James. "And… I'm sorry, who're you?"

"Alana Falagair," said the young woman, and Albus recognized her—she was an Auror who had come to his house the Christmas before last. His father seemed rather awkward around her and his mother seemed to have an intense dislike for her. It wasn't clear why; she seemed nice. "Darn, I really wanted to get here in time for the second years' duels."

Albus shrugged. "I didn't win. Sorry."

"Oh—who did? Was it Eftan?" asked Alana, looking around excitedly.

"No, it was the Ravenclaw kid, McKinnon," replied James. "Why?"

"Oh," she said, looking disappointed. "Well… I was in Hogwarts when I went to Slytherin. Er. Slytherin when I Hogwarts—you know. I have to root for my old House. Did they win the first years' tournament?"

"No, Slytherin hasn't won a match yet," said James with an obvious air of satisfaction.

"Biding our time, I suppose," said Alana. "You'll see, we'll finish strong." She turned back to the stage, where Lyman Dane and Grace Garland were locked in fierce combat. Neither could cast a spell the other couldn't Dissipate, and it looked like a stalemate for a while. Albus rolled his eyes; they weren't changing up the direction of their attacks. That might end the match sooner.

"Why are you here, and weren't you blonde?" asked James bluntly.

"I'm here to help investigate the forest about that craziness last week, but don't tell your father I told you that," she said. "And yes, I am usually blonde; I just decided that my natural hair color would be my winter colors this year." She smiled sweetly with her big eyes, which were the same color as her sleek, ruffled brown hair.

Finally, Grace cast a spell at Lyman's head that wasn't blocked in time, and Lyman toppled to the ground unceremoniously. The tense Gryffindors all went slack with disappointment as the Ravenclaw and Slytherin third year champions took the stage.

Albus's eye twitched as he recognized Red Pierce, the instantly dislikable Slytherin with heavy-set eyebrows over cold gray eyes and thick black hair. This was one of those people he'd heard about who still held the mentality that purebloods were superior. It was absolutely ludicrous; how could anybody be judged for something as trivial as whose child they were?

"Go Piama!" yelled people from all three other houses.

Pierce used the same strategy he'd used against Roxanne last year: he Conjured a serpent from his wand with that _Serpensortia_ spell. This caused Piama to squeal and jump away and not notice the Stunning spell flying at her—which was an extraordinary spell for a third year to learn. Albus was highly disappointed by this, and very annoyed at the Ravenclaw champion for not fighting just because there was a snake on the stage with her.

"Pierce is the winner. Miss Brown, thank you, step off, please… oh, just go _around_ the snake, for crying out loud… Pierce against Garland, go."

Pierce won this match, too, with only the Stunning spell. Grace Garland looked too steady to be phased by a snake, so he fired Stunners at different parts of her body until she dropped and won for Slytherin. Alana looked pleased and James looked furious.

Lucy Weasley defeated a Slytherin, Mortimer Fawn (apparently the brother of the Hufflepuff Claudio), in the first round of the fourth years' tournament, which raised the spirits of three-quarters of the Hall. Her opponent was Brendan Fairfax, who had defeated Kathleen Moore of Hufflepuff, whom Albus recognized by sight. She was a friend of Joanna Cattermole, who was the mentor of Mia Moon, with whom he hadn't spoken in a while… He'd have to go make conversation with her at some point.

Lucy beat Brendan handily to mass cheering from the Gryffindors as she finished off with _Incarcerous_; she'd just won them eighteen points. As she exited the stage looking pleased, leaving behind Brendan struggling to free himself from the ropes, Albus felt a breeze go by his ear, and noticed a pie flying through the air towards his victorious cousin.

The pie struck Lucy right in the face, and she gasped as James laughed and bellowed, "_UNENDING VENGEANCE!_"

Lucy charged after him with her wand out, and after that masterful display of dueling, everybody jumped out of her way.

"YOU GIT—DO YOU EVEN REMEMBER WHAT THAT WHOLE DARNED UNENDING VENGEANCE THING WAS ABOUT?"

"You beat me and stole my spot in the Dueling Tournament this year, so Unending Vengeance has been re-sworn!" he called as he turned tail and fled.

Professor Longbottom shook his head in mild annoyance as he called up Louis Weasley and Asher Pierce of Slytherin, Red Pierce's brother, who looked very similar and equally dislikable.

Louis had a gentle nature; he was the most relaxed guy Albus had ever met. But the look on his face when he stared down Asher Pierce was simply _frightening_. Albus had never seen a look quite like that on anyone's face, and had never expected to see it on Louis's face. Pierce smirked and mumbled something, and Louis's face burned red in an instant, and his eye twitched. Albus wondered what kind of quiet trash talk was happening up there.

"Bow and begin," said Professor Longbottom.

Neither boy bowed. Asher Pierce, after a moment's hesitation, fired off _Cadesempra,_ through which Louis slashed before firing off a Stunning spell. Professor Longbottom looked like he was about to complain that they hadn't bowed, but he backed off and settled down to watch.

The match went on longer than Albus expected. Pierce worked well with the Shield Charm and the Stunning Spell, but in the end, he was no match for Louis.

"_Emitus Frantus!_" shouted Louis quickly but clearly. A bright flashing spell burst from his wand and careened around the room unpredictably before crashing into Pierce's face and relieving him of his wand. Pretending he hadn't seen this, Louis fired a spell which upended Pierce and caused him to crash into the wall of the barrier around the arena before falling back down ten feet to the ground.

Greatly surprised by this unsportsmanlike behavior from one of the cousins to whom he looked up the most, Albus watched as Professor Longbottom gave a strict warning to Louis before calling up the next match, though Albus could have sworn he saw Professor Longbottom give a similar look of loathing towards Asher Pierce.

Compared to the previous battle, the one between Peyton Atkinson of Ravenclaw and Cassidy Till of Hufflepuff, as well as Louis's match in the finals against Peyton, were very anticlimactic; they were both much faster. Peyton made Cassidy look like an amateur and was subsequently made to look like an amateur by Louis. Louis was a truly masterful duelist; Albus could see a look of appreciation on the face of Professor Desulgon, the reigning dueling champion of the Summer Wizarding Games.

Next up was Molly Weasley, whose duel last year against Gabriella Garland had been Albus's favorite amongst his cousins. Molly beat a Slytherin named Johanna Grinnell, and Albus was very grateful that the Slytherin competitor was already out of the tournament. He caught himself in that thought and realized that his father would probably be disappointed in him for that anti-Slytherin bias, and he just appreciated that his cousin had won.

Molly's opponent from last year, Gabriella, was also in the tournament this year, after defeating Joe Murray of Ravenclaw. The two girls faced off in an epic and lengthy match consisting of a lot of nonverbal magic before Molly finally pulled off the victory for Gryffindor and Albus cheered himself hoarse.

The seventh years' tournament was not as good as the sixth years', surprisingly. A Hufflepuff named Omar Neamy beat out a Ravenclaw named Beatrice Kendrace in about twelve seconds, and then the Gryffindor-Slytherin match began. Nella Chelic was called up with… not Dominique, but Dyson Stenet.

Here was Albus's first good look at Dyson. The seventh year boy was tall, muscular, and dashingly handsome. He winked at Molly and gave her a brief kiss on the cheek as he passed her, and she smiled and put a hand to that cheek. His hair was streaked black and gray and was fairly long; his nose was slightly upturned by nature and it gave him a permanent look of self-confidence. Albus liked this guy immediately and hoped that he would win.

He did not win. Nella Chelic was a more confident duelist, and she got the better of him in about half a minute's time. She then went on to walk all over Neamy and take the title of the seventh years' tournament for Slytherin, prompting a smug Alana to dig a fist into James hair as she laughed and suggested that maybe next year would be better for Gryffindor.

"The final point totals are as follows," announced Professor Longbottom. "Thirty-five to Hufflepuff! Thirty-six to Ravenclaw! Forty-four to Slytherin! And… seventy-four to Gryffindor! Congratulations to all of our winners, and have an excellent evening, everyone!" He seemed very grateful that it was over.

James elbowed Alana with a self-satisfied grin. "Maybe next year," he said, and Alana scoffed at him and walked away haughtily.

Albus trotted over to Mia, who remained in the crowd when most of the students had gone; he hadn't talked to her in a while and wondered how she was doing. As he got closer and the crowd got thinner, he noticed that next to her was Alec, who was holding her hand.

Albus gasped a little bit and his face lit up. Were Alec and Mia… _dating?_

Mia noticed him and waved him over; so did Alec when he saw.

"Hey, Albus," said Alec. "What's up? Nice match, by the way. You're really good. I was totally shocked when you got off that Shield Charm!"

"Yeah, that was a great match," agreed Albus. "So… I was kind of wondering. Where on earth are you getting all these spells for the Dueling Tournaments? You have a bunch of new ones every time, it's crazy!"

"The library," said Alec. "I go there a lot before the matches and read up on the theory of a bunch of spells that I think could help."

Albus wrinkled his brow. "Wow," he said. "That's… pretty dedicated. And pretty amazing. Are you sure you're not, like… practicing with Professor Desulgon, or…?"

Alec reacted far more adversely than Albus had ever been expecting. He tore his arm away from Mia and pointed it right in Albus's face.

"_Really,_ Albus? _Really?_" he hollered. "I do _one thing right_ and suddenly no one can believe it. That's always how it is, isn't it? I must have been training with Professor Desulgon, how could the world's worst Ravenclaw have beaten perfect little Albus Potter in the duel? _It couldn't have been his own skill!_"

"W-What?" stuttered Albus. "N-No, Alec, that's not what I—I was considering asking Professor Longbottom for help, I wasn't accusing—"

"Well it sounded a hell of a lot like an accusation!" howled Alec before turning and stomping away.

Albus stared numbly after his friend, unable to voice his apologies.

Mia shot him a glare and said, "Nice, Albus. You couldn't even have let him have just this? Come on."

"Are you kidding?" he cried in exasperation. "I wasn't insulting him, I was just curious!"

"Think before you ask it out loud next time, then," she said, and strutted away with her nose up.

Albus sighed. He hated it when Alec got this unreasonable. What had been wrong about his request? If anything, Alec should have been flattered—he was _so good_ that he'd left Albus in disbelief. Wasn't that better than what Albus faced every day—trying to meet expectations that were set higher than he could reach?

He decided he'd apologize later when Alec had cooled down. Maybe it was that he was still feeling intense from the match.

Turning around, he saw that the people who were left in the room were all adults—and not all of them were teachers.

His father was among them. It was a group of Aurors from the Ministry who had apparently stopped in to watch the match, which explained why Alana Falagair was here. There was, as far as Albus could recall, everyone from the group last year which had gone into the Forbidden Forest to look for more mulunctapoli: Wilcox and Professor Valon, Lynwood Chinch, Obydin Auchland, Alana Falagair, Killian Aubrey, his father, and Uncle Ron. There was also an older man who was tall with white and gray streaked hair, with an upturned nose that reminded Albus a lot of Dyson Stenet; they might have been related.

Albus jogged over and hugged his father and then Uncle Ron, who both laughed happily to see him but looked slightly worried; possibly about their looming forest expedition.

"We came just a little bit too late to see your match," said Harry apologetically, "but we heard you won in the semifinals! That's fantastic!"

"If you beat Rose, you're good enough to win the whole thing," bragged Ron. "Don't worry, the kid who beat you probably just got lucky."

Albus knew Alec would probably have thrown a fit if he'd heard that.

"I was going to find you or James to tell you," said Harry. "I have… important news. Unfortunate but important."

Albus had been very excited to hear that his father brought important news, but it turned to dread when the word "unfortunate" was added.

"I hate to say this, but the addition of the forest trouble to our agenda just made things really busy at the office," he said. "And what with the most recent disappearances… and this whole damned—organized Squibs thing—"

"The Squibs are organized?" asked Albus, taken aback; he hadn't thought there were very many of them.

"Apparently, they're either organizing or have already organized," said Harry. "Don't go shouting about that, though. So, with all this stuff that's come up—big stuff—I know it's too early to be absolutely certain, but I don't think I'll be able to get time off for Easter. It would probably be better for you to stay here for the holidays. Louis and Fred will be here for preparation for O.W.L.s, and Dominique for her N.E.W.T.s, and Molly's studying in America for Easter, so everyone's missing kids; Uncle Percy and Uncle Ron and I are working our butts off; and all in all, I think it would be easier on the family this year to… to go without our usual Easter dinner."

Albus deflated. He loved the Easter tradition of cramming everyone into the Burrow for a rowdy meal.

"I know. It wouldn't be cancelled if we thought it was worth it. Sorry. But you'll still see all your cousins at Hogwarts. Their dinners are excellent on Easter."

Albus nodded and gave his father another hug.

"But there's some really, really good news," said Harry with the biggest grin that Albus had ever seen on his father's face. He reached into his cloak and took out a letter that looked like a Hogwarts acceptance letter.

"Who made it into Hogwarts?" said Albus, surprised.

"It's for you," said Harry, evidently barely able to contain himself. "Albus, you've made it into the exceedingly competitive new A.R.M. program. _We're so proud of you!_"

O

_Albus Severus Potter,_

_You have been requested to apply to the Alternative Routes to Magic (A.R.M.) Program at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

_The program is a five-year commitment. Students may leave the program at any time if it becomes too much of a strain but are considered to evaluate wisely whether they should apply to the program in the first place. Starting in the third year, the students will be trained in the following areas:_

_Diwand Spells_

_Wandless Magic_

_Alternative Artifact Magic_

_Modern Magical Instruments_

_The four sections comprise one O.W.L.-certified course. They will maintain a focus on dueling and the study of the way magic is produced through wands and other mediums. A historical component is included which is separate from the events learned in the History of Magic O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. classes. A practical component will be necessary for the construction of magical apparatuses and students will be expected to work with their hands. A second wand will be a necessary purchase. Other requirements will be made known to the student as they arise, and the schedule, which is still a young creation, is subject to change at the discretion of the instructors. The consent of a parent or guardian is a requirement for any student wishing to partake in the course._

_The instruction provided in this program is intended to enhance the skills of apparatus use. The program will be a requirement for the occupation of Auror and is highly recommended for those seeking a career in wandmaking. However, as the program is still in development, it is not yet a requirement but is still recommended._

_For further information, please attend the meeting with your Head of House at 8:00 P.M. on February 23 in your common room. Questions will be answered and concerns will be addressed there._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Neville Longbottom_

_Deputy Headmaster_

Albus smiled as he reached the end of his letter, which he'd read many times at this point; it was obviously a form letter, with the same text on everyone's, but at the bottom, Professor Longbottom had scribbled in his own handwriting,

_Go Albus! Congratulations! —Neville_

_P.S. You really should enroll in this program._

It was currently 8:00 P.M. on February 23, so Albus was now just waiting for the aforementioned meeting to start; on cue, Professor Longbottom walked into the common room.

"Listen here, everyone!" he called to the chatty common room. "This meeting is for second years alone. Everyone else, you may stay if you'd like, but do not disrupt the meeting.

"Some of you have received letters at your places of residence about the new A.R.M. program here at Hogwarts. It is a very competitive group of electives that you will take as a single class. It will not affect your course schedule in any way—the classes will be held at a time that produces no conflicts. Please read the information in your letters and in these handouts carefully before enrolling. Talk it over with your parents—send an owl. I'll give you a few minutes to look through the packets describing the courses, and, for the next hour, I will take and answer any questions that you have. I am confident I'll be able to answer whatever you pose to me; I've been imparted with extensive knowledge about all of the courses… the Heads of Houses have undergone a lot of training about how to answer questions on this subject."

Albus now understood why Professor Longbottom had been looking so tired.

"Ask away," he finished, and distributed the information packets with a wave of his wand.

"Why didn't I get a letter?" asked Riley Andersen with a pout.

"The letters with an invitation to apply were sent only to the very top performers in the year," said Professor Longbottom. "Receiving a letter just means that Hogwarts wishes you to join the program. You don't have to join if you get a letter, and you certainly aren't barred from the program if you didn't get a letter. You may all still apply, but if your grades are poor, your request for acceptance will likely be declined."

Albus glanced down at the packet he'd been given with information about all four sections of the course. He glanced through, decided he didn't have any questions, and knew that he wanted to join. _This_ was the program to which Professor Desulgon had been referring throughout the year. He was going to learn how to use two wands. He couldn't wait to pick up his second and start—it seemed painful that it would be half a year before he would be taught.

After a lengthy time of enlightening confused students, Professor Longbottom told them that their meetings with mentors would help explain more on the subject, and their mentors would provide one-on-one counsel as to whether it was a good idea to take the class. He also suggested speaking with a parent or guardian on the matter, but Albus had already done that.

The next morning, after breakfast, Albus met with Gil and discussed the prospects of taking the course, though he was already confident that he would be taking the course.

"It sounds really, really cool," said Gil, brushing back his long red hair. "I'm really jealous, in fact. I'd love to have learned to use two wands. So… I've got an information packet, now; they handed them to all the mentors. Is there anything else you want to know about the program?"

"I have a packet, too," said Albus, bemused. "I could just read it if I want to know."

"Yeah, well, they don't trust second years to understand that, I guess," said Gil.

Albus laughed. "I guess not. Well… I'm going for it."

"Absolutely. It's like no other opportunity there's been at Hogwarts."

"How tough do you think it's going to be?" he asked nervously.

"Oh, probably ridiculously difficult," postulated Gil. "I mean, think about it. Wandless magic? No one can do that accurately, not a single person in the history of the world has been able to do it consistently and without tiring themselves out completely with one charm. I can't possibly see how they would test you on an O.W.L. for that when very few grown wizards have even mastered the art of 'kind of doing wandless magic but not really…'" He flipped through the information booklet. "_Elemental Influence… Kinetic Management… Telekinesis… Effection, Control and Distance Training… _and, finally,_ Spellwork._ Woof. This looks crazy."

Albus lost about eighty-five percent of his confidence instantly.

"But, come on," said Gil, punching his arm. "You're perfect little Albus Potter; you can do it."

"Why does everyone think I'm perfect?" mumbled Albus into his knees.

"This is a problem to you?" asked Gil, an eyebrow arching.

"Well… it just seems like everyone always expects so much of me," he admitted.

"Then that's unfair of them," said Gil. "But remember: don't be afraid of disappointing someone. It really only matters if you're disappointing yourself."

"Thanks," said Albus, smiling. "Does that mean, if I decide that I want to drop out of school, that's okay as long as I'm not disappointing myself?"

"Well, you'll probably be disappointed in yourself at some point in the future if you don't follow through on your education, so it's probably not okay," observed Gil in a very preachy manner. "But seriously… do what you can, but don't worry about someone else being disappointed in you for something that's out of your control."

"I hope I'm not prying," said Albus cautiously, "but they way you say that… it sounds like you've disappointed some people in the past."

"Ho, boy, you know it," said Gil, leaning back in his chair and brushing his fingers through his long, silky red bangs. He used a finger to bat around his phoenix feather earring absentmindedly and stared off into space. "Definitely fallen short of a fair few expectations in my time. 'Course, it wasn't about schoolwork… more about the fact that for the first four and a half years of my Hogwarts experience, the fam kept expecting me to announce one day that I had a lovely date and then bring an agreeable young woman over for dinner."

"And you haven't gotten a date yet?" asked Albus sympathetically. He found that odd—girls tripped over air when Gillian Gartrive walked by.

"I… didn't bring a girl home for dinner, no," said Gil carefully, a sly little smile on his face. "Enough of that, though. You're twelve. Nobody should be getting romantic at that age, never you mind about my love life. You have any more questions?"

Albus shook his head no.

"Then we're all set here," said Gil. "Have an excellent Sunday. You have to decide by the end of the Easter holidays on which electives you want to take, so figure out before then whether or not you want to enroll in the program and get your parents' signatures on the form, too. And if you have any more questions, I'll be here, albeit freaking out over O.W.L.s."

"Thanks," said Albus, and waved goodbye cheerfully.

He glanced down at his information booklet and again excitedly consulted the words he'd been rereading for hours, because imagining the implications of these words in his life made him as excited as watching a Quidditch match.

_DIWAND SPELLS_

_In this course, you will learn to utilize a second wand. Practical portions include performing spells which are exclusive to the bearers of multiple wands, as well as practicing in the art of Diwand dueling._

* * *

_**If you like it, please review! If you didn't like it, please review!**_


	14. Off the Map

_**So I went ABSOLUTELY FREAKING INSANE recently for some reason and wrote roughly 40,000 words in the last two weeks. My hands hurt. But I finally plugged out the first chapter of Book 3! And in regards to uploads, there's o**__**nly one more chapter to go in this book. Awesome!**_

_**And another really long upload. And guess what? Next week's chapter is the longest yet. Who loves you? Cody loves you.**_

_**Character blurbs will be appearing on my profile page at the same time that I post the final chapter of this book.**_

_**Important note: Thanks to the fans who pointed out an inaccuracy in the chapter before this. Yes, you were right-James CAN in fact see thestrals. I DID in fact state that in the beginning of this book. I fixed that error in Chapter 13 where he apparently can't see the thestral that crosses their path in the forest, so you wouldn't have seen that error if you read Chapter 13 more than two days after it was uploaded. But I'm very glad I made that error, cuz you know what? I almost cried with happiness at the realization that there are people who know my story better than I do. I love all y'all so much. If you find any other errors like that, feel free to point them out.**_

_**And now, ladies and gentlemen, the feature presentation: your second-to-last installment of this book.**_

* * *

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

OFF THE MAP

O

Albus looked up during the mail delivery on Monday the first of April to see a large brown owl flying towards him. It was carrying the _Daily Prophet_.

He'd finally ordered a subscription to the paper to keep up with events. He was tired of waiting until he got home for his father to tell him what was happening—and he wasn't even going to be home for Easter. He had decided to start getting the paper in April. Depositing two Knuts into the owl's pouch, he took the paper; the owl hooted gratefully and took off again.

He unfolded the paper and froze.

**HARRY POTTER CHANGES STANCE**

"**WE SHOULD SEND ALL MUGGLES TO THE MOON"**

"What?" croaked Albus, scanning the rest of the article. It was littered with quotes that sounded nothing like his father.

"Albus, you gullible moron," said Rose's friend Dorothy, taking the paper from him. She cleared her throat. "_April Fools_."

The paper shuddered and the headlines changed to more reasonable things.

Albus exhaled in relief. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it. The Prophet does that every year. If you want to read the joke articles at some point, just say what I said again."

Albus scanned the headlines. Almost all of the front page was about some singer, Galatea Warbeck, who was marrying a writer who was going to write her songs. What _was_ this nonsense? This was news? He turned the page and nearly choked on his orange juice; he could not comprehend how this had not taken precedence for the front page.

**AFTER MONTH'S SEARCH, MINISTRY STILL UNABLE TO LOCATE MISSING DOZEN**

**ABRUPT CALL FOR RESIGNATION OF HEAD AUROR**

_Twelve staff members of the Ministry of Magic went missing in late February, shortly after the tremors in the Forbidden Forest near Hogwarts Castle. Eight of the twelve of those reported missing were involved in investigating the forest incident, though the Ministry denies a connection: as almost half of all employees at the Ministry were involved in the investigation, eight out of twelve is not so implausible. Nevertheless, the facts are troubling to many._

_Obydin Auchland, Head of the Auror Office, had little to say to our reporter on the scene, Rita Skeeter._

"_We are not considering this an act of war, and neither should you," he said. "This is an unfortunate incident, but is also isolated. Security has been stepped up, and we will find our missing personnel. We made one small misstep in allowing this to occur, but it will not happen again and the people responsible will be severely punished. There was a small fluke, unlikely to occur again, and there is no reason for anyone to suspect danger as a result of this isolated incident. Therefore, I see no viable reason for a conniving newspaper to spread propaganda that the Auror Office is somehow failing in its duties. Print this and I will wring your neck._

"_Get out, you repulsive little insect," added Auchland to our reporter as she attempted to follow for further inquiry._

_Ronald Weasley, well-known and well-respected Auror, approached our reporter afterwards._

"_We apologize collectively for Auchland's behavior," he said on behalf of the Aurors. "Auchland has been stressed and irritable as of late. Luckily you met him in a _good_ mood. It is common knowledge around the office that Auchland has a tendency to underrate these sorts of occurrences. We are finally grouping together to overrule him. The incident will receive further investigation as to whether an organized group is behind the disappearances, regardless of Auchland's evaluation. We will be raising the threat level and providing advice on home security. And we have informed Auchland of the precariousness of his perch on top of the office: he will either get his act together and stop pretending that nothing is wrong, or he will be leaving us shortly."_

_Most of the Auror Office has now politely requested that Auchland either get his act together or let the curtain fall. Auchland has apparently held his position because, due to his extensive experience in the office, no one wants a complete restructuring of the office's power during such an unstable time, and many had faith in Auchland's leadership. What faith was had is now lost and the favorite for the position if Auchland leaves is Gerald Stenet. In the meantime, we suggest that Gerald Stenet watch his back._

That must have been the man with Harry after the Dueling Tournament who looked like he was related to Molly's boyfriend Dyson—probably Dyson's father. Albus really hoped he got the position; things would seem to be looking up. He hadn't liked Auchland when his family had met the man in Diagon Alley before this school year, and he really hoped Auchland would be leaving.

James walked by with Barry, Marco, and Gavin; the four of them were talking quietly about something and laughing amongst themselves. Albus inclined an ear but was unable to eavesdrop on their conversation before they were gone. He wondered when the next Loki, Pokey, Polo, and Pent attack would happen; there hadn't been one of those in a while. Perhaps they were out of tricks.

It probably wouldn't be this week or the coming week, though. Until next Saturday, Albus had claim to the Invisibility Cloak and the Marauder's Map, and those were indispensible tools to prankster hopefuls.

Albus had pulled a fair bit of creative persuasion in this respect: James had still stolen the Marauder's Map from their father's private stores—Albus had the capability to use this as blackmail. So, to be fair, he asked that they take turns with their fathers' possessions, two weeks at a time. Yesterday, James had begrudgingly given the cloak back to his little brother.

Despite his threats, Albus wasn't going to turn his brother in. He didn't want his father to take back the Marauder's Map; it was too cool. It was more than fair that the brothers share the Map and Cloak equally… but then he remembered that Lily would be attending Hogwarts next semester, and he suddenly understood why James was keeping the two items a secret in the first place—he really, really did not want to have to share them with Lily, too.

Well, Lily wasn't a troublemaker, so she would have no need for those things.

But did this line of thought mean that _Albus_ a troublemaker?

Smiled to himself as he twirled his oatmeal around with his spoon, he admitted to himself that he had meddled in far too many affairs to consider himself innocent.

O

April passed most of the way through without incident, except that, like every month, there was a full moon. On a Thursday a little more than halfway through the month, the day before the full moon, Albus noted in Herbology that Exo looked sicker than usual. He was excused from the lesson on Mandrakes, as he was more susceptible to fainting even with the headphones. The moon finally turned full on the Friday that the Easter holidays began, but Exo was unable to join in the excitement that came during double Potions due to the fact that after this class ended, they were free.

"You going to Current Events after this?" asked Jonah. "I don't know if I could stand to go to an optional elective when skiving would mean that Easter holidays have started!"

"I'm going," said Albus determinedly. "It's only an hour. Easter Break can wait sixty more minutes."

"You're such a Ravenclaw," laughed Toby. "No way I'm going."

"But Professor Glinrow is going to talk about the creation of the Summer Wizarding Games," argued Albus. "Don't you find that cool?"

"I find sitting in the sun by the lake cooler," said Toby.

"Tell us if she says anything _really_ interesting," yawned Jonah as they started to pack up their potions equipment.

"Have a good Easter, everyone," said Professor Valon to the class. "After the break, we're going to talk about Mind-Numbing Solutions, so please read up on them in your books on page… it's three hundred and ninety-something. There will be a very nice prize awarded for anyone who makes a potion that causes a classmate to be unable to add simple numbers properly, but we'll only have two classes to prepare for it, so study up."

Albus collected his books and walked to Current Events with Eftan. He would try to stick to the pledge he'd made to himself in the beginning of the year: that he would attend every class he could, including the optional ones. You never knew when something you'd learn was going to be very important in the future.

Rose and her friends Dorothy and Pallie were right behind them. After a long walk and a lot of stairs, they settled down in the old classroom where Current Events was being held, making it just in time as usual, since the room was on the sixth floor and his starting point at Potions was in the dungeons. Looking around, he noted that there were very few people in attendance; besides Eftan and the Gryffindors, it was only Aidan, Callie Crosenbend and Mia Moon, and Gad Frasier with a group of Ravenclaw girls that included Holly. She waved at him, clearly intending him to come sit with them, but Albus and Eftan settled down with Aidan, who was alone.

Then Riley walked in, and the Gryffindors all gawked.

Riley shuffled to a desk in front and plopped his books down, looking miserable. Dorothy blinked rapidly as if to try and disperse the hallucination, and then said incredulously, "What are _you_ doing here?"

Riley huffed. "Professor Desulgon gave me detention, and he said I'd have to come to Current Events and take a quiz on it afterwards."

"What'd you get detention for?" asked Gad, but then Professor Glinrow cleared her throat up front and it was time to begin.

"The Summer Wizarding Games," said Professor Glinrow, "were introduced after the end of the Second Wizarding War."

Riley appeared to already have fallen asleep. Professor Glinrow gave him a brief look of pity and then continued.

"The Muggle Olympics are a fascinating conglomeration of sports—you'll learn about that if you take Muggle Studies—based upon the Olympics of ancient Greece, which also involved magical competitions. Those parts of history were erased with the introduction of the Statute of Secrecy, or ignored by Muggle historians who thought it preposterous that their ancestors believed they were doing magic in the games.

"The Summer Wizarding Games brought back a number of elements from the magical components of the Olympics, such as singles and doubles Dueling, obstacle courses, artful performances, and my personal favorite, automaton combat, which is where wizards are given a pile of scraps out of which they create quasi-sentient magical servants to fight each other."

Albus didn't know how Riley could possibly be sleeping through this—he thought that was one of the coolest things he'd ever learned. It was clear that Professor Glinrow was trying very hard to not make them disappointed that they came here instead of roaming free for Easter Break as she went on to describe some of the amazing sports of the Summer Wizarding Games. Then she went on into details on competitive dueling that Professor Desulgon hadn't even described in his explanation.

"In competitive dueling, spells are categorized into their main types: Aggressions, Barriers, Conversions, Dichotomies, and Enhancements. They are further subdivided within their groups. For example, Aggressions are attacks, but they may be different kinds of attacks—they may target the opponent, they may target his or her defenses, or they might produce a budding threat that grows with time. All of them, however, are usually dependent on the starting position of the duelist."

Albus shifted in his seat and paid his full attention; Professor Desulgon hadn't mentioned this.

"There are three possible starting positions in competitive dueling—three themed areas where you're standing as the duel begins—Land, Sea, and Sky. This is consistent with the usual European traditions of modeling things after the three environmental elements, derived from stories of the Natural Sprites of ancient lore: Terra, Mara, and Aether, the three parts of Pyron. You'll notice that this theme of the natural elements has a lot of influence in many areas of our lives, usually as a tribute to the older times. The Triwizard Tournament, for example, has this theme. The three tasks are usually all designed consistently with an element: last time, it was dragons for air, the Black Lake for the sea, and the hedge maze for land. Note also that the three schools which participated in the tournament each modeled themselves after one of the natural elements: Beauxbatons is sky, Durmstrang is sea, and Hogwarts is land. That's why Beauxbatons travels to the other schools by flying cart, Durmstrang by their enchanted ship, and Hogwarts by the special train we use for such occasions which runs deep under the ground. You'll be seeing it next year for arrangements in travel for the tournament.

"The Triwizard Tournament is somewhat like the Summer Wizarding Games, and both were brought back for the exact same purpose: after troubled times, everyone was looking for a way to bring the world together for peace and good fun. Many precautions are to be taken for both in their upcoming years, because, understandably, many people are worried that something similar to—"

She paused, gazing out into the hallway.

Riley stirred and looked up for a moment. "Is class over?" he mumbled sleepily.

A lone bubble, about six inches across, had floated into the room and was gliding towards the front, undulating in its path. Every face in the room turned to look curiously at the bubble as it made its way towards Professor Glinrow.

"Er… good afternoon, bubble," she said apprehensively, "but I am, in fact, teaching a class here, and you are somewhat distracting… If you could leave?"

"Peeves?" whispered Aidan; Albus shrugged and Eftan squinted further to look.

Riley leaned over with his quill in his hand; the bubble was headed in a path that would take it within arm's reach of him.

"Mr. Andersen, down," said Professor Glinrow.

Riley lifted his hand with the point of the quill aimed at the bubble, a mischievous expression on his face.

"_Mr. Andersen,_ _don't you dare pop that bubble!_" raved Professor Glinrow.

Riley popped the bubble.

A scream louder than a Howler pierced the room, rattling the windows and forcing everyone's hands over their ears. The echoes were causing the walls to rumble and the sound reverberated past their hands, sounding almost as loud with plugged ears as it did without them.

Albus could not make out what Professor Glinrow was shouting at all, with her wand pointed towards the source, but from reading her lips, it looked like _Silencio,_ the Silencing Charm. It wasn't working. He cast his gaze towards Riley and found that the bubble had not gone away when it had been popped—no, it was _multiplying,_ and the more bubbles appeared, the louder the sound grew.

Red sparks flew in front of the room; everybody turned their heads to Professor Glinrow, who had caused the sparks, and she waved them all outside. They eagerly followed, and once they burst out the door, and the door was slammed, they heard similar sounds coming from three other corners of the school.

The screaming went on for another five minutes while the teachers tried to undo whatever was happening. Meanwhile, the bubbles filled the classroom so much that the door would not stay shut, and they were oozing out into the hall; the students ran to a secluded classroom to dull the noise. When it sounded the teachers finally got rid of one of them, the rest of the bubbles stopped screaming. Instead, they started chanting:

"_Hail Loki, Pokey, Polo, and Pent! Hail Loki, Pokey, Polo, and Pent!_"

Albus grinned. It was weird, knowing that his brother was involved with this stunt, which was so brilliantly constructed. He saw a future for his brother in the pranking industry. Maybe he could be like Uncle Lance and run another branch of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes somewhere else, and help with the invention process. If Uncle Fred ever found out that _this_ was the sort of stuff his nephew was doing in Hogwarts, he'd be so proud he'd probably cry.

O

Though the full moon was Friday, Exo did not even reappear on Saturday. Very worried for his friend, Albus kept a sharp eye out for Exo the whole weekend until the little werewolf finally turned up at breakfast on Sunday.

Albus smiled, but the smile was gone quickly. Exo looked worse than he had ever been—quite literally on the verge of collapsing—and it was two days past the full moon.

The small and fragile boy sank slowly into a seat next to Albus and picked off one pancake from the massive pile in front of him. He ate it without enjoyment.

"Are you all right?" asked Albus nervously.

Exo shook his head no.

"What's happened? Have you gotten ill or something—I mean, more ill?"

Again, Exo shook his head no.

"It's just the full moon again," he said weakly. "Transforming into a werewolf is… much harder on a younger body than an older one. That's what Dad said, anyway. The transformation sucks all your strength away and doesn't give it back. He thinks that's why I'm short, too. Kids my age are usually using their energy to grow… I'm using it to… to not die right after I get back to being human. I _hate_ it. I _hate_ this."

Albus grimaced. It was upsetting to hear his friend talk like this. It wasn't that he didn't want to hear about Exo's suffering—just that the reminder of the pain his friend was being put through made him feel guilty that he was healthy.

"I want to be cured," said Exo.

"I'm sorry," said Albus, casting his thoughts back to John Solomon, wondering where the man was lying low.

"But I was thinking," whispered Exo, "maybe I _can_ be cured."

"What?" asked Albus.

"I need to find John Solomon," he said. "That's what I need to do. If I can find John Solomon—if I can get him to cure me during a lunar eclipse—then it'll solve _both_ of our problems. Solomon will be exonerated, and I'll be—normal again."

"How are you going to find Solomon?" asked Albus worriedly.

"I'll find him," said Exo determinedly. "I'll find some way. Sometime in the future, maybe when I'm a bit older and I can defend myself… I'll find him."

"And I'll help you," said Albus.

Exo cast his weary eyes on his friend.

"You don't have to do that."

"I _do_ have to do it," said Albus. "I'm your friend. I made a promise to myself that I would go with you when you tried to find the cure, and that I wouldn't let any danger come to you. I'm going to keep that promise; I'm not going to stop just because it didn't work out the first time. If you ever go anywhere to find the path to your cure… then I am coming with you again."

Exo's eyes began to water, and his lips started to twitch.

"Thank you," he said, and threw himself into a hug around Albus.

"I'm your friend, Exo," replied Albus. "I'm never going to let you get hurt if I can help it. And I have an Invisibility Cloak, which definitely helps me help it."

Exo took four more pancakes and started to eat with a smile on his slightly wet face.

Gil passed by, his bright red hair attracting the eyes of every girl in the area as usual. He combed some fingers through his hair and tapped Albus's shoulder. Albus looked up.

"Yo, Al," said Gil. "You and I have to meet again over the holidays at some point to talk about the other electives you might want to take. You know—Divination, Care of Magical Creatures, Muggle Studies…"

"Yeah," said Albus. "Forgot about those. When do you want to meet?"

"I'm going home for the holidays," said Gil. "So either sooner, or later. I'm thinking later. Telling you about the electives courses will help me to study for them. How's Sunday sound? Unless you want more time to think about it—you've got to submit your choices by Monday."

"Sunday's fine," said Albus as Louis walked over to their part of the table. He and Gil waved to his cousin.

Exo looked up and waved hello to Louis—Albus recalled that Louis was Exo's mentor.

"Hey, Exorian," said Louis. "You all right? I've been looking for you."

"A little sick," replied Exo, trying to sound like nothing was wrong. "Do we need to talk about electives?"

"We do," said Louis. "Can we meet right after breakfast? I'm going to Egypt with my dad for Easter, the train leaves for King's Cross at one o'clock. Good thing I found you before that."

"Yeah, we can do right after breakfast," said Exo.

"Good, see you… er, then…"

Louis trailed off. A girl with very long and brilliantly blond hair walked by. He combed his hair behind his ears and waved to her.

"Hi, Louis," she said sleekly as she passed, waving ever so slightly.

Louis smoothed over his hair as he looked after her. "Ah, Flavia Marillo," he said with a sigh. "I've got a thing for blondes."

"Yeah?" asked Gil, chuckling.

"Yeah, I don't know why," he said. "Maybe it's a Veela thing. I just love that shining yellow hair. Flavia's got it great. I should ask her out."

"You're going to ask her out just on her hair?" asked Gil skeptically.

"Well, I've known her for five years, she was Sorted into Gryffindor with us," he said. "Maybe after the break. I wonder if she's got any Veela blood."

"She certainly does have long, blonde hair," said Gil, nodding after her.

Louis winked at Exo. "Anyway, after breakfast, meet me in the library quick, I have to run afterwards. See you then."

Exo nodded contently. It must have felt good, Albus thought, to get back to normalcy when that was all you craved.

O

It was a good thing that the Easter holidays had arrived, because Exo didn't fully recover until halfway through the week. Albus stayed at Hogwarts because his father had confirmed that he was unable to get time off, especially now that they were closing in on the scent of an unknown enemy, who might not be unknown for too much longer.

But something else had come along with Harry's last letter.

Included in the envelope had been his father's signature stating that he was permitted to apply to the Alternative Routes to Magic program of Hogwarts.

_I, Harry James Potter, do hereby give my consent that my son, Albus Severus Potter, may submit his application to the Alternative Routes to Magic program at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

After that, all there was left to do was fill out a small essay on why you wanted to join the program—Albus was considering being an Auror in the future—and get a recommendation from a professor. Albus chose Professor Longbottom, because he was a family friend and head of Gryffindor House and knew Albus very well. Alec, Aidan, and Eftan, who were also submitting applications, all chose Professor Desulgon (as did half the year).

For some reason, even though Albus was one hundred percent confident that he wanted to partake in this program, it was very hard to submit the application. Maybe it was just due to his fear of being rejected by the program—they would be taking second year final exam grades into account on the application; what if he failed them all?

"You're _going_ to get accepted, you're perfect little Albus Potter," said Alec, clapping him on the back as the four friends all inserted their envelopes into the mouth of a winged boar statue, which had been placed in the Great Hall for the prospective A.R.M. students to submit their applications.

"Thanks," said Albus. He knew Alec was touchy on the subject of academic performance, so he didn't ask whether Alec was nervous about his application, or his exams, which he probably had to ace if he wanted to get into this competitive program.

His arm felt like a strand of spaghetti when he'd finally let go of his application, watching the statue munch it down and swallow it. He felt chilled for some reason, and he realized for the first time that exams were only a little more than a month away.

These exams would be the most important ones yet, besides the standardized tests he would take in his fifth and seventh years. These tests would probably determine whether he would be accepted into the A.R.M. program, and there was no taking that back.

He would have to start really turning it up a notch in his classes in preparation… though there really wasn't much to turn up—he was already doing exceptional.

As at least three or four people had said already, he was perfect little Albus Potter. So he tried to stay confident and keep doing what he'd been doing for almost two years now, because whatever he was doing, it was working.

O

Sunday came around much too fast; nobody wanted to go back to classes the next day, but there was nothing they could do.

The Hogwarts Express returned right before dinner, bearing students who had gone home for break. Albus looked for Gillian's trademark red hair, but didn't see him, and just decided to wait in the common room for his mentor after dinner like they'd said.

He settled into an armchair by the fire; it was strangely cold for the end of April. He was just getting out his information sheets on the third year electives when someone tapped him on the shoulder.

He turned around and almost jumped out of his skin.

"Hey, Albus," said Gil.

"What—what—what happened to your hair?" stuttered Albus.

Gil brushed his fingers through his hair, which was now bright light yellow.

"Dyed it," he said, shrugging.

"Why? It looked really good red."

"I don't know. I like… blond, too. Changing it up. Does blond not look good?"

"No, it looks fine," said Albus quickly. "It's just… red seemed to be more _you_. But maybe that's just because I've only ever seen you with red hair."

Louis walked by, talking with Exo, and he paused for a moment and stared at Gil, blinking rapidly as if he wasn't sure if he was seeing right.

"Er," he said. "H-hi, Gil—nice—hair."

"Thanks," said Gil quietly as Louis turned back to talk to Exo and walked away. Gil exhaled deeply.

"Er, so, are we going to do electives?" asked Albus, still surprised from the hair.

"Hah? Yeah, sure," said Gil, somewhat distantly.

Albus spread out the information sheets for each of the classes on his lap.

"Which ones were you thinking about taking?" he said.

"I was thinking…" Albus started, sifting through the papers again, "Care of Magical Creatures, and Muggle Studies, and Divination… and probably Arithmancy… and maybe Ancient Runes."

Gil still looked like he was daydreaming, but he snapped back with a questioning look on his face. "That's… that's all of them."

"Is that bad?" Albus grimaced.

"No, you can if you want," said Gil dreamily. "That's actually what I did in my third year, but you've got an extra one with the A.R.M. program…"

"Was it manageable?"

"Oh… I did fine… I think my Louis scores were in Ancient Runes, that's a difficult class."

"Your what scores?" said Albus, staring at his mentor in slight confusion.

Gil reddened.

"My lowest scores," he mumbled.

Albus peered at Gil suspiciously. What was it that Louis had said right before break… right before Gil dyed his hair?

Louis walked back out of the dorms, and Gil looked around to see that he was chatting with that girl he'd pointed out with the brilliantly blond hair, Flavia Marillo.

Albus and Gil watched intently as Louis whispered something into her ear; she giggled as they approached the portrait hole. He kissed her on the cheek and they exited.

Louis liked blondes.

Albus looked over to Gil, who looked depressed to the point of being physically sick for a brief moment before he gathered himself and started explaining how difficult the professors were for each of the classes. Albus couldn't take his mind off what he'd just realized, though, and he stared at Gil's recently dyed blond hair.

"…but you know Professor Weasley, he's your uncle!" said Gil, smiling convincingly.

"Do you…" started Albus, but he didn't continue. What Gil liked and didn't like (including his cousin) was Gil's business alone unless he wanted to share it. And it was a sight more impactful to share than if he just liked blondes.

Gil puffed a strand of hair out of his face.

"I don't really like being blond," he said quietly.

It was really sad to see this. Albus wondered how he would feel if he saw Holly laughing with another boy.

"Hey, do you know what you want?" asked Gil.

Albus nodded. "I want to take all of them."

"Are you sure about that?" asked his mentor hesitantly. "That's a ton to take on. You'd be one of the first ever to try for thirteen O.W.L.s."

"I can drop one if it becomes too much," said Albus. "Right?"

"Right," said Gil, tilting his head. "Well, if you really want to…"

"I do," said Albus.

"You know what, perfect little Albus Potter?" said Gil with a wink. "I think you can do it."

O

"Hi, Albus!" said Candice Carlen, walking over to Albus's desk and batting her eyes as he stirred his cauldron.

Albus laughed. "Hi, Candice. What'd you do wrong?"

"No idea this time," said Candice. She thrust out her lower lip, trying to look as pathetic as possible. "Would you help me?"

"Sure," said Albus with a smile. He enjoyed helping out his friends. It certainly made him popular. Candice was particularly abysmal at Potions, and Transfiguration, too, so she tended to come over to him a lot.

He looked into the cauldron, but today's potion looked quite abysmal, and he wasn't sure what she'd done wrong. It was supposed to have many of the properties of water, but her potion was bright yellow.

He looked over the ingredients for the Mind-Numbing Solution. Jobberknoll feathers… Veela hair… Giant Purple Toad wart…

"Did you add the Giant Purple Toad warts?" asked Albus, taking a guess based on what the potion looked like.

"Ew, no, of course not," said Candice. "I'm not going near those warts. The potion can live without them."

Albus sighed and put a hand to his face. "No, Candice, that's not how it works. Everything is essential in Potions. It's not like Transfiguration where almost doing it right gets you almost the right result. Potions is too exact to leave out a step on purpose!"

"But who the heck wants to drink _warts?_"

"Here," he said, tossing in the warts as Candice made a disgusted face. "They're supposed to dissolve one at a time, but seeing as how you haven't done any, I'd put in four now and keep going one at a time, and I think it'll be fine… You might want to add some extra kelpie hair, though, it'll help offset the effects of ignoring the warts for too long." The potion started turning clear, faster when he added the hair.

"How do you know that?" asked Candice, her jaw slack.

"Er, it's just Potions stuff," said Albus.

"No it isn't! I don't remember learning that at all!"

"Well, tend to your potion," said Albus, shrugging. "I have to tend to mine."

"Man, I love you, Albus," said Candice, shaking her head in disbelief as her potion started to resemble the better potions in the class.

"I hope you don't only love me because I'm good at Potions," said Albus, grinning. "Would you leave me if I were stupid?"

"Certainly not," said Candice with a huff, though Albus secretly suspected that this wasn't true.

Excluding Current Events, which had no work requirements, this was the last class before the weekend. Having been spoiled with the Easter holidays, almost no one had gotten through the week without complaining about how long it was.

After Albus let a few more Giant Purple Toad warts dissolve, and was satisfied with his creation, Professor Valon called off the brewing so that the potions could be tested. He walked around the room, making marks of which potions looked viable.

"I won't test everyone's potion," said Professor Valon, "because if you did something wrong—like neglecting to add your warts—the potion could potentially damage your brain."

Candice looked around nervously.

"Thankfully, it's easy to see," said Professor Valon. "Only clear potions are safe. So the potions I will test to see who gets the prize are the following students: Scorpius Malfoy, Eftan Griffiths, Abigail Quinn, Rose Weasley, Albus Potter, and Candice Carlen. Candice, I'm impressed; this is much beyond your usual work."

Candice grinned sheepishly.

"Anyone want to volunteer to have their mind numbed?" asked Professor Valon. "It's a surprisingly enjoyable experience. Ignorance is bliss, you know."

"I'll do it!" announced Riley.

"You don't need your mind numbed any more," responded Professor Valon.

Riley blinked in confusion.

Professor Valon called up Heidi Lasseter, Uma Brayard, and Desmond Sescis of Slytherin with Scott Waters and Wendy Harowa of Gryffindor. When he requested one more volunteer, Eftan walked up. Then the Potions Master took a sample of each of their solutions, labeled them with numbers without letting anyone know which solution was which, then made some notes on a clipboard and gave the first solution to Desmond Sescis.

"I've written down here which number belongs to which student," he said, waving the clipboard, "but I'm not telling you because I don't want bias. I want every volunteer to try their very hardest at the questions I give them. Mr. Sescis, if you would please drink your Mind-Numbing Solution now."

Desmond downed the solution and stood still, his gaze cast to the back of the classroom while he waited for the effects to sink in. His eyes became slowly blanker and his gaze more unfocused, and his mouth fell open a bit.

Professor Valon handed him some chalk, and he took it. "Please," said their teacher, gesturing to the chalkboard. "If you would add fourteen to twenty-seven."

Desmond brought his hand up to start writing, then brought it down again. "What were the numbers?"

"Fourteen and twenty-seven," repeated Professor Valon.

Desmond wrote down the problem, waited for about fifteen seconds, and then wrote 41.

"Correct," said Professor Valon. He gave Desmond a new vial of potion; this one was black. "Drink that."

Desmond stared at the potion.

"Drink it with your mouth," said Professor Valon gently, and the class laughed.

Desmond finally drank the potion and his eyes were focused again. Professor Valon nodded. "Uma, please drink your solution now."

Uma Brayard downed her potion. She twitched once, but not many physical changes could be noted.

"Please subtract thirteen from thirty-two," requested Professor Valon, handing her some chalk.

"Nineteen," replied Uma after a moment's hesitation, without using the board.

"That's right," said Professor Valon. "Very good. That one was ineffective, it seems. Probably didn't get a smooth Jobberknoll feather. Do you need the antidote?"

"My legs won't move," said Uma worriedly.

Professor Valon administered the potion to her, but she still was motionless. He grabbed a small jar of spices from his desk, uncapped it, and held it under her nose; after a deep sniff, she was stretching her legs and walking back to her desk.

"Wendy, drink your potion."

Wendy did so.

"Please solve twenty-four plus twenty-nine."

She wrote the numbers shakily on the chalkboard, and wrote 63 as the answer.

"That's more like it," said Professor Valon happily. "Quite wrong."

Wendy quickly scratched out the 6 and wrote a 5 to correct herself.

"Still very good. Here you go." He handed her the antidote. "Scott, now you."

Scott downed his potion, which was the clearest yet; it looked empty. Albus thought this might be his potion—he looked in his cauldron, and his looked the clearest in the class.

"Thirty-seven minus twenty-eight," said Professor Valon.

Scott didn't take the chalk in front of his nose.

"Scott."

Scott stood still.

"Scott, please subtract twenty-eight from thirty-seven," said Professor Valon, leaning in front of Scott's face.

"Who's… Oh," said Scott. He finally took the chalk.

The class waited, but Scott did not move.

"Scott."

"Huh?"

"Please solve thirty-seven minus twenty-eight!"

Scott turned to the chalkboard and wrote a Q.

The class laughed, and Professor Valon took the chalk. "I think that's enough," he said. "Here." He tipped the antidote into Scott's mouth, not trusting him with the vial on his own. "Now, Heidi, if you will?"

Heidi took her potion and quickly solved forty-two plus twenty-five on her own. The last to take his potion was Eftan, whose head drooped sleepily after he'd taken it.

"Eftan, please solve eighty-three minus fifteen."

"Ow," said Eftan, clutching his head.

"Are you all right?" asked Professor Valon, grabbing a small stone from his desk.

"Yeah," said Eftan, shuffling towards Professor Valon awkwardly to get the chalk. He started to write on the blackboard, and got the correct answer.

"That's it, then," said Professor Valon. "The winner was Albus Potter, potion number four. Congratulations—you've just won yourself one extra percentage point on your final."

The class clapped, and Albus beamed. He'd won class competitions before, but this was really important—it affected his final, and his final affected his application to the A.R.M. program! Glowing with happiness, he glanced at Eftan, catching his eyesight right as Professor Valon was about to hand him the antidote.

And then he felt a sensation that he hadn't felt in more than a year.

He jumped across the room, mentally but not physically. The whites in Eftan's eyes widened, and then they expanded and swallowed Albus and he fell through a dark abyss until he tumbled to a stop in a hazy hallway.

Looking up, he realized that he was in front of the Charms classroom. Wondering how he got there so quickly, thinking he might have stumbled upon one of Wilcox's special passageways through the castle somehow, Albus was very shocked to see Eftan walk out of the room a second later.

Eftan looked odd. Albus realized that it was because his hair was long—Eftan had gotten a haircut during the Christmas holidays. Why was his hair long again?

Maximilian Arkhoth, one of Eftan's fellow Slytherins, bumped into Eftan as he exited. Eftan's books toppled from his grip and hit the floor; the binding ripped on _Charming_.

"Oops, sorry, Mudblood," murmured Max as he walked coolly by.

Albus's jaw dropped. "_Hey!_" he burst out at Max, but Max didn't turn around. "_Hey!_ Max! I'm talking to you, you jerk!"

Max still didn't turn. Jasmine Zabini joined him, clutching his arm and giggling.

"Eftan, are you okay?" said Albus, turning around right as someone delivered a swift kick to Eftan's head.

Albus felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. Eftan clutched his head and looked up as he was passed by Asher Pierce, whose shoe had struck him in the temple. Pierce conjured a towel and cleaned his shoe before strolling on.

"Ugh, filthy blood on my shoe," said Pierce as he set the towel on fire and tossed it to the side.

Albus now knew why Louis despised this git.

Asher Pierce joined a group that included Simon Smokehart, whom Albus recognized as Eftan's mentor, and started laughing with him and miming the act of kicking something on the floor. Albus's face burned with anger.

"What the hell is the matter?" asked Nina Amualda, who also walked by Eftan without stopping to help pick up his books. "Don't they teach Muggle kids to clean up after themselves?"

"Get up," said Liz Anitha. "You're embarrassing Slytherin even more than when you were Sorted in here."

Eftan just finished picking up his books when a spell came from the wand of Desmond Sescis that scattered them all over the floor again. Laughter rang in Albus's ears as he was jarred back to his senses and he found his cheek smeared against the cold floor of the Potions dungeon.

"Albus, can you hear me?" came Professor Valon's smooth voice.

"Er. Yes," said Albus, very confused.

"Are you numbed?" asked Professor Valon. "Sometimes that happens, nothing to worry about—bubble bursts in your potion and it splashes on you, some gets on your finger and somehow makes its way under your skin—do you need the antidote?"

"No, my mind is fine," said Albus, pushing himself off of the floor. He hauled himself back into his seat, shaken.

"Are you all right?" asked Rose.

"I'm fine," he said, but he knew he didn't look it.

"Are you sure?" asked Exo.

"Fine."

He looked up at Eftan, who was standing with an empty vial of the antidote to the Mind-Numbing Solution. He looked shaken; his face was pale and he was trembling slightly, looking at Albus.

Albus suddenly realized, all at once, what had happened. That was one of Eftan's memories—probably from right before Christmas, judging by the length of his hair, and everything that he'd seen had already happened to Eftan, but Eftan had never told them.

Was that really what it was like to be Muggle-born in Slytherin? He'd thought… he thought they weren't like that anymore.

"Class dismissed," declared Professor Valon. "Study up. Test is on next Friday, we'll review on Thursday. Know the many uses of dragon parts in potions. And Albus, are you absolutely sure you're fine?"

"I'm absolutely sure," said Albus confidently; he knew what had happened, and it wasn't the first time.

But Professor Desulgon had said there were limiting circumstances that caused him to be able to enter minds. Harry Lussen had been drunk… Professor Desulgon had been tired…

And Eftan had taken the Mind-Numbing Solution.

Albus charged out of the room, as Eftan had gathered his books quickly and departed at almost a jog. He clapped his friend on the shoulder, and Eftan turned around, his face white.

"Albus, _did you read my mind?_" he demanded instantly.

"I'm—I'm sorry!" said Albus. "I didn't mean to. It was an accident. But—"

"_Never_ do that again," snarled Eftan, turning back around and continuing down the dungeons where the Slytherin common room was located.

Albus ran after him. "Eftan, I'm sorry, please, I didn't mean to do that and I'll try to never do that again, but what did I just see?"

Eftan didn't answer and picked up his pace.

"Eftan, you have to go see Wilcox if this is what's happening—Wilcox would be furious, he's a Slytherin and he's got a heart of gold—"

"Stop it, Albus," said Eftan, turning his head. His eyes were wet. "Just go away."

"We've got Current Events—"

"I'm not coming."

"I'm going to go to Wilcox if you don't."

"No," said Eftan, finally stopping. "No, you're not. Don't you dare. It'll make it worse."

"Eftan, don't you remember what happened to those kids who bullied Exo?"

"It's not the same."

"It _is_ the same!"

"This isn't acceptable."

"I can't do anything about it," said Eftan, lowering his voice as other Slytherins started to pass them. "If I say anything to anyone, there'll be others there to torment me worse. It's not the same as Exo being bullied because _everyone_ in Slytherin is like this. Not everyone hated him for being a werewolf."

"But… I… I thought it wasn't like that anymore."

"It wasn't," mumbled Eftan. "Not during my first year. But then—when that damned Global Revelation happened—all the Muggles killing wizards, all the attacks, everything that happened… It just reignited all those old ideas, I guess. And people here started to look at Muggles like animals again. It wasn't that nobody hated Muggles anymore, it was just that they were _quiet_ about it, because not everyone felt that way. Muggle-haters were a minority. Now, though… it's not even just Slytherin, and they have a reason to hate me again, and apparently that's enough to make them think that they can do what you just saw."

"You have to tell Wilcox," said Albus. "You can't just let this happen to you. You've got to stick up for yourself."

"Yeah, you're a brave Gryffindor," said Eftan. "You think that you can confront every problem head-on. Well, I'm a Slytherin, despite my parentage, and if anything, I know what's best for myself. It's best for me to stay quiet now."

"How can that be best, if what I saw has happened more than once?" protested Albus. He stared at Eftan. "Has it?" he pressed.

"Don't ever ask me about it again," insisted Eftan. "And don't you _dare_ tell our other friends or I won't talk to any of you ever again."

"You need _some_ friends," grumbled Albus. "Does this happen to Sylvester?"

"No, he's a Parselmouth," said Eftan. "They don't hang around with him willingly anymore, though."

"Come on, Eftan. How can you think that it wouldn't help to get some of the teachers on your side? Maybe they'll see something, and punish the perpetrators, and then everyone will know it's not okay to do what they're doing."

"Come on, _Albus._ How can you think that they won't just be more sneaky about it? Getting the teachers on my side won't make them change their minds, it'll make them angrier."

Albus glared at his Slytherin friend, trying to break into Eftan's mind again to try to get him to understand that he didn't have to put up with this. He didn't know if doing something like that was even possible, let alone for him, but he was quickly disappointed when Eftan turned around and left him.

"I want you to know that if I ever see that sort of thing for myself, I'm going to Wilcox right away," called Albus.

Eftan paused and turned around.

"Fine," said Eftan. "Fine. Tell you what. If it ever happens to me again I _will_ go to a teacher. Okay?"

"Okay," said Albus, but as Eftan headed back to his common room, he knew that it was a lie. Eftan had just said that to end the conversation and get Albus to stop talking to him. He wouldn't go to a teacher if it happened again, Albus was sure.

But Albus would if he saw it again, or if he was given any other sign that it was continuing. He resented that Eftan wasn't doing it by himself.

As he exited the dungeons, he heard a familiar sound: it was Gimmick's distinctive yowl. He turned to see his little black-and-white cat trotting towards him at high speed.

"Hey, Gimmick," he said.

Gimmick mewled at him and headbutted him in the leg.

"What?" asked Albus, picking up his cat. Gimmick mewed again.

He laughed and slung his cat over his shoulder and trekked back to the common room. Gimmick dug his claws into Albus's shirt and purred the whole way back.

O

Gimmick's odd behavior didn't stop. He roamed the castle by night all the time, and yapped at Albus whenever he was in sight. But the strangest behavior by far came one day after Albus had brought him back to Gryffindor Tower on the Saturday night before final exams when Albus was in bed.

He was trying to get to sleep, but the common room was very hot. It was the first of June, and one of the hottest days he'd ever experienced. It couldn't have been warmer under Hagrid's awful hairy suit. Albus had trouble sleeping in heat, so this was particularly bad sleeping weather. Usually, at his house, there was a nice Frostflame in the fireplace which they could purchase from the Floo Network by the hour—it was fire that cooled the room rather than heating it. Here, there was no such thing.

He sighed at the ceiling, and then turned his head sharply as the door opened.

Someone apparently opened the door and then changed their mind about entering, because no one came in. Albus stared at the wall next, and then pulled his covers down to his waist and closed his eyes to try and rest.

"Albus."

He almost flew through the ceiling. He glanced to his bedside where James lifted up a flap of the Invisibility Cloak.

"What?" growled Albus. His heart was still pounding.

"It's your turn for the Invisibility Cloak," whispered James.

"Leave it in the trunk," said Albus, hoping nobody else was awake; they'd think he was crazy, talking to himself.

"No, what if someone's awake? It'd be weird if I suddenly appeared in the second years' dormitory. Just come outside and I'll take it off and give it to you, then you can put it in your trunk. You're already awake, anyway, come on, get up."

Albus groaned and heaved himself out of bed, walking back out the door, seemingly alone. James pulled off the Cloak once he was sure they were alone in the common room, and handed it to his brother.

"Happy June," said James. "Good luck on exams on Monday. Here's the map, too." He pulled the Marauder's Map out of his pocket. "Not that you'll probably be sneaking out right before finals… but a deal is a deal, you get it until we leave, so maybe you'll get some use out of it when exams are over."

"Thanks, bro," said Albus sleepily. "Got any more pranks for the end of the year?"

"The New Marauders rest," said James, stretching out his back. "We'll be back next year. Maybe. That is our O.W.L. year, though."

"Carefree James, worrying about exams?" said Albus incredulously. "I'd never have believed it if I hadn't heard it with my own—"

He stopped as Gimmick let out a particularly loud yell. They turned towards the portrait hole, where Gimmick was scratching to get out.

"You want to walk around, Mick?" asked Albus.

The cat was attacking the portrait hole more frantically than usual.

"Seems like he really wants to get somewhere," said James. "What, have you got an appointment?"

Gimmick rushed at Albus and scratched at his leg, then ran around him in circles, then ran back to the portrait hole and stared out.

Albus walked over and opened the portrait hole. Gimmick jumped out, then stared at his master. He kept swinging his head back outside and then back out to look at Albus.

"Maybe you could get some use out of the Cloak right now," suggested James. "It looks like the furball wants you to join him on his little expedition."

"I don't know about that," said Albus.

Gimmick started yowling incessantly, rising in volume.

"Geez! All right!" hissed Albus, jumping out of the portrait hole and swinging on the Invisibility Cloak. "Don't wake anyone up!"

James waved goodbye and closed the portrait hole behind them.

"_I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,_" said Albus, examining the map as it sprang to life. There was no one nearby.

He pulled the Cloak over himself completely and followed his mewling cat.

He descended down all seven flights of stairs, and continued heading towards the dungeons. Now that he thought about it, this is where Gimmick had been every time he'd encountered Albus. Had Gimmick been trying to get Albus down here for weeks, and Albus just hadn't noticed?

They descended further, until Gimmick reached a span of wall that was apparently more interesting than the rest, and he paced back in front of it, mewing over and over again.

Albus stared at the wall. Something was odd. It looked… cleaner, and newer, if only slightly so. He ran his fingers along the wall.

Gimmick kept crying out at the wall, and Albus didn't know what was so interesting about this wall. He gave it a quick look-over, and then he noticed something _very_ interesting.

The wall had some dust on it, but there was a streak of dustless wall as if someone had dragged their finger across the area. Albus searched for where it began, and then dragged his finger along the wall, following the spiral streak, until he reached the other side, and the wall melted away at his touch.

He threw a hand to his mouth and reopened his map, casting _Lumos_ to read it.

This passageway was not on the Marauder's Map.

Gimmick was not deterred, and he ran down the passageway. There were stairs, leading down and twisting out of sight. He followed his cat, trusting Gimmick's instincts that nothing down here was going to jump out and cut his head off.

It was hard to breathe through the anxiety he was feeling about traversing this unknown area. He followed the spiraling staircase down, down, down, until he reached a short hallway that led to a lone door.

Gimmick was sitting at the foot of the door, chirping in a weird way that Albus had never heard from a cat. He started scratching at the door just like he had been scratching at the portrait hole.

Albus approached warily, jumping away as he saw a spider crawling near him. The door was small, just tall enough for an adult to pass, and seemed to be made of steel. It looked sturdy and probably very thick. The hallway narrowed as it moved towards the door, and it would have been hard for two people to walk side-by-side if they got close.

Consulting the Marauder's Map again just to make sure, he found that, indeed, he was no longer on the map. He walked slowly towards the door. He pulled on the handle, and was not surprised that the door did not open for him. Pulling the Cloak off, he pressed a hand up against it and looked for any markings like he'd found on the wall that guarded this passageway.

"Ooh, are you a student?"

For the second time that night, Albus thought he was going to have a heart attack at his young age and die. He whirled around and pulled out his wand, and saw a ghost floating in front of him. It was a ghost of a young girl, maybe a little older than he was. She was squat with dark hair, her most defining traits being her pimples and thick glasses.

Albus took a guess.

"Are you… Myrtle?"

"Yes, and you?" asked Myrtle, looking rather happy. "You look a lot like sweet little Harry…"

"I'm Albus Potter," said Albus, again irked at being recognized only for his father.

"Ah, of course," said Myrtle, pouting. "Other people _age._ They fall in _love._ I'm doomed to forever sit in a nasty lavatory forever!" She collected herself. "How old is Harry now, anyway?"

"I… don't know," said Albus truthfully. "Maybe… I think thirty-nine next month, because next year he'll turn forty."

"I turned ninety a few days ago," said Myrtle, smiling and swinging her hips back and forth in the air. "Don't I look young for my age?"

"Er, yes," said Albus, remembering his father's warnings that Myrtle was somewhat easily offended.

Myrtle glanced back at the door. "So, you've seen it, too?"

"Yes," said Albus. "What is it?"

"I don't know," said Myrtle.

Albus looked at the door again.

"You can't fly through it?"

"No," she said, her brow lowering. "It's the oddest thing. I can't pass through there. I only found this place because I was flying around the plumbing after being flushed, and I flew out and smacked my head on something. I haven't smacked my head into anything in decades. So I investigated, and… I found this door that I can't go through."

"Can you… go around it?" proposed Albus.

Myrtle puffed out her chest and scrunched her face in anger.

"Oh, _no,_ I didn't think of that!" she griped. "No, of course not! I've only been dead for seventy-five years, of _course_ I didn't think of that!"

"So you can't?"

"I can't fly anywhere near the room that this door guards," she said. "It's made a sphere around this underground chamber, and I have _absolutely no idea_ what's inside."

Albus shifted his gaze down to his cat. He thought he'd heard Gimmick meow again, but Gimmick was staring silently at the door, his tail thrashing around behind him.

"Oh, look at that," said Myrtle, pointing at the stairway through which Albus had entered.

Albus's jaw dropped. _Dozens_ of cats—literally _dozens_—were streaming down the hallway and congregating next to Gimmick around the door. They all gazed up in fascination, little mouths hanging open, some of them pressing their paws against the door as if they were trying to push it open.

He realized that the entryway to the door was now open, and all host of creatures could enter. He jumped to the side as a line of spiders skated through the hall, and gawked as the spiders climbed up the wall next to the door, circling the doorknob. None of the cats paid any attention.

"What _is_ this?" asked Albus, right as a sound issued from behind the door.

It was a groaning, unlike anything he'd ever heard. It sounded like the world's largest door being slowly opened, or the world's largest tree creaking in the wind. The sound echoed through the hall, seeping under his skin and giving him goose bumps, reverberating through his very bones.

Every cat in the hallway charged out, their backs arched, fur raised, tail sticking straight up. The spiders scattered instantly and not even one could be found within five seconds. Albus's throat closed up in terror, and he backed up away from the door. The noise was still happening.

"Maybe you woke it up," said Myrtle gleefully as Albus threw on the Cloak, grabbed up the map from the floor where he'd left it, and sprinted out of the hallway.

He dashed up the stairs, wondering what could possibly have been behind that door.

Was it… Dismiusa?

But what would a nature spirit be doing behind an iron door? And wouldn't she be in the forest, not under the school?

What on _earth_ was it?

Gimmick was nowhere to be found, but that meant that he was nowhere near the door, which was very relieving to Albus. As he dashed back into the dungeons, the wall through which he'd entered sealed up behind him. He didn't care that the Cloak was flapping up, revealing his feet; he just wanted to get back to the dormitory as quickly as possible. He leapt his way up the stairs towards Gryffindor Tower, and encountered the Fat Lady, who appeared to be in distress as he suppressed the Marauder's Map and pulled off the Invisibility Cloak.

"What in heavens have you _done?_"

"I didn't do anything!" objected Albus. "_Deluminator!_"

"Then what in heavens _happened?_" she cried at him as the portrait swung forward.

"I don't know!"

Albus clambered into the common room, pulling the Invisibility Cloak back on, and then burst back into his dormitory as silently and swiftly as possible. There were some people conversing uneasily in the common room, though it had been empty when he left. He folded the map and stuffed it into his trunk, and then did the same with the Cloak, closing the trunk and jumping back into his bed.

Several of his fellow Gryffindor second year boys were shocked at his reappearance.

"Where were you?" demanded Scott, looking wild.

"Common room," lied Albus immediately. "Why, what—what happened?"

"_What happened?_" gawked Scott. "It sounded like the bloody school was ROARING, that's what happened!"

"What?" said Albus. He wondered what it had been like on the seventh floor of the school; he'd been several hundred feet below it.

"Did you fall asleep in the common room or something?" asked Exo, bailing him out. Albus nodded quickly.

"Holy moly, what _was_ that?" asked Toby, clutching his hair.

"Maybe we'll find out tomorrow," said Jonah.

But though the groaning from under the school became the most discussed topic on the way to exams, it was never discussed by the teachers; they simply said that they didn't know what had been the source of the noise, and left it at that. Theories flew—that it was more mulunctapoli; that it was a Whomping Willow planted under the school; that it was the mournful sound of mass studying. No one knew for sure, and no one wanted to give it too much thought on the day before exams. Albus just hoped James wouldn't drag him back under the school to investigate the noise.

Blood in the forest… groans from under the school…

Was Hogwarts even safe anymore?

* * *

_**I read something once that said that J.K. Rowling based the tasks of the Triwizard Tournament on the four elements, Earth, Water, Air, and Fire, but that she ended up combining fire and air in the form of the dragons. I took creative liberties with that and changed it to Land, Sea, and Sky. (Just in case there are any absolutely crazy HP fans like me who would notice that and point it out, or in case you were wondering about the background on that!) The theme of Land, Sea, and Sky will be in the next Triwizard Tournament, and have some implications thereafter, so it was important that I mention it now. (Update, after one of my reviewers asked the question: The part where I connect Hogwarts to Land, Durmstrang to Sea, and Beauxbatons to Sky is my invention, though J.K. Rowling might have had that in mind when she devised the series, since it all fits so nicely.)**_

_**Anyway, see you next week for the very last chapter, where I will finally name the third book.**_


	15. The Next Great Adventure

**_I've been talking too much lately. Let's just get right into it, shall we? Enjoy._**

* * *

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

THE NEXT GREAT ADVENTURE

O

"Not even _ghosts_ could pass through the door?" whispered Alec tentatively.

"I've heard there are enchantments that can prevent the passage of spirits," said Aidan. "Ancient Greeks invented it, then Egyptians perfected it. It was to prevent anyone, living or dead, from disrupting the afterlife of their Pharaoh… and if a grave robber died in the tombs, he was trapped there, and he couldn't escape as a ghost to tell his friends how to get past the defenses."

"Creepy," said Eftan with a shiver.

"But—but—not even _ghosts_ could phase through the door?" repeated Alec in disbelief.

"We shouldn't talk about this so much," said Aidan. "We have exams to worry about! Tomorrow! Remember? Whatever this all is, it can wait until after exams."

"Of course it'll wait," said Alec, rolling his eyes. "Of course the moaning monster under Hogwarts will wait until exams are finished before it attacks because it's just so thoughtful like that. That moan was its way of saying 'I love you guys.'"

"Well, there's nothing we can exactly do about it until then, so that's why I'm not worrying," said Aidan, burying his nose back in a book. He reminded Albus so much of Rose. It was a wonder they weren't best friends. Though they _were_ engaged in constant friendly competition… Maybe that was their way of being best friends.

"We don't even know if it's actually a 'monster,' or something else," said Albus.

"Not thinking about it!" called Aidan from behind his book.

Albus sighed. "Aidan's right. I have to study. These finals are going to be really important for the rest of my time at Hogwarts. I need to make sure I do as well as I can."

"I should study, too," said Alec with a very unenthusiastic face.

"It's okay," said Albus. "I'll help you study. Helping people study helps me study."

Aidan left to seek out his own table in the crowded library, and Albus took Alec to a different table so that they wouldn't bother Eftan. Then, sparing no more seconds, they started cramming for the most important week of their lives yet.

O

Charms, as usual, was Albus's most difficult subject. After two hours of making flowers bloom and close to a musical beat, teaching parchment to scream when it was ripped (which he found rather morbid), and many other seemingly useless tasks for anyone who wasn't a circus clown or a sadist, Albus finally exited the room with a smile. From a lot of studying, he'd still done above average, and was happy to realize that he'd gotten above average in his worst class. Alec apparently did very well in Charms, too; he was getting better at all of his practical subjects.

Albus was finished in half the time of the rest of the class during Potions, because during the year, he'd discovered a shortcut to brewing the Wood-Eating Potion, one of the potions that happened to be on the exam. Professor Valon gave him a look of consternation before peering into his cauldron and vaulting his eyebrows. He shooed Albus away to let the rest of the class concentrate, and then he mentioned quietly that Albus really shouldn't worry about his Potions grade.

In Herbology on Tuesday, they trimmed the mustache of the Hirsuhedrora, a task they'd learned in their first year but about which most of them had forgotten until now. They also calmed down the Cantankeroot, bathed the Pulverda, won staring contests with Vidwood saplings, and repotted Mandrakes. Much to the amusement of the class, Riley had to do all five tasks with a mustache because he'd been bitten by his Hirsuhedrora in the first minute of the exam. Mandrakes were done last, because Professor Longbottom didn't want anyone being knocked out and unable to move on to the other tasks the final, and they were done simultaneously. People who didn't finish the first four tasks were forced to move on, and many of them looked totally distraught. Albus was very thankful for his intelligence and uncanny ability to remember how to deal with all the plants.

"Professor," whined Jamie Doge of Hufflepuff. "My Vidwood still won't stop crying into my leg."

"Well, that's what happens when you glare at them," said Professor Longbottom, shrugging. "Just give him some sugar, Doge."

"What?" yelped Jamie.

Professor Longbottom held up a container of sugar. "Sugar," he repeated.

"Oh," muttered Jamie.

"Oh yeah," said Professor Longbottom, stroking his chin. "I suppose 'give him some sugar' does have another meaning. Anyway, Andersen, get down to Madam Birchbaum and have her get rid of that mustache."

"Can I keep it?" asked Riley, stroking his new facial hair.

"No. See you all next year, everyone!"

Their afternoon exam on Tuesday was in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Professor Westerling gave them a series of hexes and jinxes to cast on a Likelife, which was a human-like mannequin used for practice in dueling and other offensive magic. Albus was timid about doing this, because it felt like casting curses at a real person—the Likelife dodged and used items in the room as shields. When he finally hit the Likelife with a Stinging Hex, it crumpled in apparent pain and hit the floor, and he felt awful about it. Professor Westerling assured him that the Likelife couldn't actually feel pain, but it was still an unpleasant sight.

But he felt he'd done well on the exam. The next day, he had History of Magic in the late morning, and Astronomy late at night. Both were tedious and fairly uninteresting exams, typical format for the wandless courses. Professor Obbin promised to be an easy grader, but Albus worried that his star chart wasn't very good and that he'd named the wrong planet. The most interesting thing that happened that day was an uproar of amazement and confusion amongst the students taking the Astronomy exam, after which Professor Obbin had to calm them down and explain that what they had just seen was a Muggle space station and would not be on the exam.

Finally, they had Transfiguration in the afternoon on Thursday after a morning off. This had been their last exam last year as well. Albus wondered if it would be as easy as last year, or if this would be the only exam to cause him to worry about his application to the A.R.M. program.

Albus walked into the classroom, feeling rather confident. Professor Desulgon winked at him, and also at his friends. Albus had just settled into the desk and taken out his book when a little piece of paper fluttered into the room.

It was flapping like a bird and then drifting some, flapping and drifting until Professor Desulgon snatched it out of the air. He glanced it over and his forehead creased.

"Albus Severus Potter, Aidan Anderlin Fallon Finch-Fletchley, Alec Heller McKinnon, Eftan Treddek Griffiths?"

The four friends looked up from their last-minute studying of notes.

"To the Headmaster's office, immediately," said Professor Desulgon. "Er, there aren't many details here, but apparently it's urgent. Head up to his office as soon as possible and wait for him until he gets back."

"We're… about to start a test," said Aidan apprehensively.

"I'll let you make it up, you can take it some other time," said Professor Desulgon. "Right now, your priority is what Professor Wilcox has asked you to do, so please go to his office at once. Here's the letter, it has his new password."

Professor Desulgon rapidly folded the letter into a paper airplane with his wand and had it sail towards Albus, who caught it and unfolded it. He shrugged at his friends.

"One does not keep a Headmaster waiting," said Professor Desulgon. "Please, for the final time, leave for his office this instant or I shall fail you on your exam."

Aidan was off like a rocket; Albus and Eftan followed. Alec asked Professor Desulgon if the make-up test would be harder than the current one, and upon receiving an assurance that it would be the same level of difficulty, he plodded after his friends.

"This is weird," said Albus. "What's so urgent that it's got to interrupt our final exam?"

"Maybe it's Exo," said Eftan worriedly. "Did anyone check to see if he was in the room there?"

"I didn't make a point to look," said Alec, "but I'm pretty sure that he _was_ there. I think I remember seeing him. Maybe not, though."

"The full moon is still almost a week away, isn't it?" insisted Aidan. "What could be wrong with Exo? Could it have been something that happened at the festival?"

"But I thought Wilcox didn't know you guys were involved," said Albus with concern. "Why would he have all of us?"

"We are kind of close friends," said Eftan. "I'm sure he's noticed we're friendly… Maybe even divined that we were all a part of that plan."

"Adults do tend to notice more than we think," agreed Aidan.

"Whatever, trying to figure it out won't change what it is," said Alec. "We'll find out when we get there."

They arrived shortly at the Headmaster's door, panting from the effort of climbing all those flights of stairs so fast. Albus wished that he had constant access to Wilcox's secret passageways throughout the castle.

He didn't need to consult the note; he'd seen the password and hadn't forgotten it.

"_Dismiusa,_" he stated ominously to the gargoyle, causing it to leap aside.

Up they went with the spiral stone staircase, and then they entered through the magnificent oak door. Wilcox was not yet here, and there were no chairs in the room, so they looked around awkwardly for a while before Alec sat down on the floor.

"We'll stand up if we hear them coming," he said, and Aidan and Eftan followed suit in agreement; Albus, however, remained standing. He cast his gaze up to the Sorting Hat sitting on a shelf.

"What're you doing?" asked Alec as Albus picked up the hat and dusted it off.

"Nothing," said Albus, sliding on the hat and sitting down to face the wall. "Don't mind me."

For a while, everything was silent. Then a soft voice mused in his ear.

"Bee in your bonnet, Albus Potter?"

Albus didn't want to speak aloud with his friends several feet away, so he thought the words as clearly as he could, hoping the hat would pick up on it.

_I was just wondering… whether… whether you put me in the right House._

"Ah, yes," said the Sorting Hat. "You were difficult to place… just like your father. And he asked the same question in his second year, in fact. Very similar."

_And my father almost went to Slytherin._

"Indeed he nearly did, but he chose Gryffindor. In Gryffindor dwell the brave at heart, and that is where his heart lay."

_Do you always go with the person's choice, if they choose?_

"Most certainly not. I'm most proud of my achievement in winning my argument with one Neville Longbottom, who as I recall requested to be put in Hufflepuff."

_Hufflepuff?_ thought Albus in astonishment. _But he's so… so Gryffindor!_

"And it took a while for everyone to see it, but see it they did," said the hat.

_So you know better than everyone._

"I have the brains of all four Founders," it said amusedly.

_Would I have done better in Slytherin?_

"Ah, Albus Potter. You raise a tough question. How can we see what turns the river would have taken if it flowed in a different direction? I stand by what I said: you would have done well in Slytherin. But I Sort based on the totality of what I see."

_Why did you put Eftan in Slytherin?_

"He felt like a Slytherin to me."

_But you've got Salazar Slytherin's brains. Salazar Slytherin would never have let a Muggle-born into his House._

"You don't know what Salazar Slytherin would have thought! Only I know that. But if you must hear the truth, I don't think that boy is Muggle-born."

_Eftan?_ thought Albus with a jolt. _What? Are you serious?_

"Yes, I'm rather certain he has at least one magical parent. I'm fairly certain he's a child of two magical parents, in fact."

_But he was from a Muggle family. We know this._

"You know what they've told you. Perhaps he was adopted. Don't ask him, though. If he knows, he'll tell you when he's ready."

_I wish I was in Slytherin so that I could defend him. I should have been in Slytherin._

"You think so?"

_I crave adventure. I want to be known as great. I don't want to be smart—the only smart people who are known in history are the ones who were great. I want to be better than my father. I want to be a better Seeker than my brother. I want to beat Rose in our classes. I… I want to be better than everyone. Isn't that… isn't that a Slytherin thing?_

"It is very Slytherin, and Salazar would have wanted you for his House, no question about it," stated the hat. "You would have preferred to be in Slytherin?"

_I… think so. For Eftan._

"Despite the reputation of the house, its personal stigma in your mind, and the coldness that many of its inhabitants would exhibit towards you due to your name?"

…_Yes._

"All because you wanted to help your friend, Eftan Griffiths?"

_That's right._

"_That,_" laughed the hat quietly in his ear, "is some _true_ Gryffindor spirit. Selfless and noble. I Sort on totality, Albus Potter; you are right where you belong."

Albus took the hat off with a smile, and placed it gingerly back on the shelf.

He sat down with his friends and talked. His mood was very lifted for some reason after the conversation with the hat, and he laughed and joked with his friends, waiting for their headmaster.

But Wilcox did not show up five minutes later. He did not show up ten minutes later. And he did not show up fifteen minutes later when they knew that Professor Desulgon's exam was just being administered.

"What is this?" whimpered Aidan. "A trick by someone to get us out of the room so we miss our Transfiguration exam?"

"I'll have to remember to thank them," said Alec. "I didn't study too much."

"Professor Desulgon promised we could make it up," said Albus reassuringly.

"And if it was a prank, they probably wouldn't have known Professor Wilcox's password," added Alec.

"They could have heard it," suggested Aidan.

"I sincerely doubt they would have been able to spell it right," laughed Albus.

"Yeah, really," said Alec loudly, having trouble with his inside voice as always. "I mean, for crying out loud, who hears 'dizz-MYOO-zuh' and thinks 'D-I-Z'—wait, how is that spelled any—"

"Hey, I think that's him," said Eftan, as footsteps heralded someone's arrival.

Professor Wilcox certainly didn't sound tense, and the four friends relaxed. He was laughing with someone that sounded like Madam Duopold.

"—wrote to me," Professor Wilcox was saying in a muffled voice that slowly grew louder, "and asked for the job. I told him, do you _really think_ I'm going to replace Valon as Potions master? Zayn is fantastic! Not to mention the other benefits of having him around. But no, our prospective professor was absolutely adamant about at least being interviewed for the position, and I said to him, there's no way I'm giving the boot to Valon until he dies. He goes—he _says_ this to me—he goes, 'Well, I guess I'll have to kill him.' Yes, yes, he _said_ that! I told him, 'Dr. Hoffman, you would have made an excellent villain in another life.' He does seem ever so well-versed in his potions, but I have to say, Zayn is better. He's better than everyone, of course."

The oak door opened and Wilcox stepped in, still looking back at Madam Duopold while they conversed. She, however, froze and looked in with surprise at the four kids.

"Dottie, before I forget, I'd like to thank you for helping me with both our containment issues," said Wilcox, still facing Madam Duopold and still blissfully oblivious to his visitors, which Albus found strange, seeing as how they had been _invited_ by this man who was ignoring them. "We'll have to see how everything holds up in a month from now, but in the unlikely event, and I mean extremely unlikely event, that we _do_ experience an assault from the forest, or under the castle, we should be able to quell it shortly. Again, I SINCERELY doubt that the problem will arise, but it always pays to expect the worst, especially when nobody else in the castle is expecting an appearance from f—" the four friends gasped in unison at the word— "-ing _Dismiusa_—"

He finally noticed that Madam Duopold was gesturing inside the room when she began doing so frantically, and he turned around and blanched at the sight of the four students sitting on the floor of the office, who were all blushing furiously at Wilcox's use of that particularly colorful word.

"O-Oh," he stuttered. "Good afternoon, children—what—_shouldn't you be in an exam right about now?_"

"You sent for us," said Aidan nervously.

"I did?" asked Wilcox, puzzled. "Are you… sure? Am I… going senile?"

"Certainly not," said Madam Duopold harshly. "These students obviously broke into your office to perform some sort of elaborate prank and quickly played innocent when we walked in. Isn't that right?"

"No, he sent for us!" said Albus angrily, waving the letter.

"You even forged a letter," snorted Madam Duopold, snatching it from Albus's grasp and then leaning over him. "You certainly have given this a lot of thought, haven't you? Now that _I_ give it a lot of thought, it seems rather odd we catch you four snooping around in here AND that our resident pranksters, Loki, Pokey, Polo, and Pent, are a group of four?" She wrinkled her nose as if she was trying to smell the truth out of them.

"Seriously?" asked Albus in disbelief that she was actually accusing them of being Loki, Pokey, Polo, and Pent. She seemed serious, too.

"Give me that," said Professor Wilcox, taking and scanning the letter, looking more and more like he'd been Confunded. Maybe he had?

"Professor Desulgon sent us," said Alec defensively.

"We will confirm this with him," said Madam Duopold, "believe us."

"Please do!" shot Alec.

Then, thankfully, Professor Desulgon burst into the room, out-of-breath. He ran to the front of the room and leaned his arms on Wilcox's desk exhaustedly.

"Sorry about the delay, kids," he panted. "I had to wait for Earle to get to my classroom to watch the kids, I don't know what took him so long; I was so agitated he probably should have been able to read it from across the school, him and his auras."

"What's all this?" asked Professor Wilcox.

"Forgive me for causing the intrusion, Helio, but I wanted to get these kids out of the classroom," said Professor Desulgon. "So I made a fake letter from you and sent it to myself in the room." He turned to the four friends. "Boys, I'm giving you a separate final. I want to test you on your Dueling as well as your Transfiguration. I didn't want the rest of the class to know, however, so I sent you all here under the pretense that you were sent to the Headmaster's office. If you could wait here until the exam is over? You shouldn't be wandering the halls; people will think you're… up to something."

Albus and his friends exchanged conflicted glances at the news that Professor Desulgon was testing them separately. It was exciting to know that he put such stock in them, but a little worrisome about living up to the expectations as well.

"I'll get back to rounds," said Professor Desulgon. "Don't want another Loki, Pokey, Polo, and Pent incident on our hands during exams, now. See you tonight at eight for your make-up final."

Wilcox awkwardly offered them Muggle cards to use while they waited in his office. Two hours were whiled away while Eftan tried to teach them poker, and then Wilcox politely asked them to leave.

"Wait," said Albus suddenly, feeling that the whole situation was very much déjà vu. He'd asked questions like this so many times, and always right before leaving. "Professor, what do you know about Dismiusa? I heard you, er, mention her just before you noticed us."

"Dismiusa," sighed Wilcox with a smile. "She's not real, that's all I know."

Albus hadn't been expecting that. He'd always thought of Wilcox as the one person to believe in her existence.

"But you just said—"

"—that we were preparing for the worst," finished Wilcox. "I am of the strong belief that Dismiusa is nothing more than a legend, but I can't exactly afford to be wrong, now, can I? Precautions must be taken even if I don't think they're necessary. If she _does_ turn out to be real, and I _haven't_ prepared for an attack, we're dead. So even if I don't think that's a possibility… better safe than sorry. Do you understand?"

Albus nodded. Some part of him, for some reason, was still hoping Wilcox would laugh and say that no, Dismiusa was certainly real, and that both the dust cloud on the day of the Quidditch match over the trembling forest and the groan from under the castle had certainly been caused by her. He didn't know why—perhaps it was because he still wished for there to be a bit more _drama_ in his Hogwarts career, but when he remembered the Lunar Eclipse festival, he couldn't imagine why he might wish that.

"I'd prefer if you didn't quote me on any of this," said Wilcox, looking embarrassed, "and especially not on my poor decision in regards to language."

"We won't, sir," said Albus, trying not to laugh and knowing that if he _did_ quote that within hearing range of an adult, his mother would probably _Scourgify_ his mouth for a week straight.

As he turned to leave, he wanted to explain to Wilcox about the passage he'd discovered under the castle, but that would mean he'd have to explain that he was wandering the castle at night, and might also mandate the disclosure that he operated under an Invisibility Cloak.

But then, he remembered what happened the last time he kept secrets about this sort of affair, and he turned around and forced himself to speak up.

"Professor Wilcox?"

Aidan, Alec, and Eftan paused on their ways out also.

"Yes, Albus?" said Professor Wilcox, eyeing him down.

"There's… something you should know, sir," said Albus. "About… about the night."

"There's something I should know about the night?" restated Wilcox, smiling.

"…About the night when the noise happened under the castle."

"I'm listening," said Wilcox, seriousness replacing his good humor.

Albus's words caught in his throat. He didn't have to give himself away.

"I know someone who was out of bed that night, Professor," he said. "They said that they heard it around the dungeons."

Wilcox's gaze sharpened.

"Is that all?" he asked.

"Well… I think—we think—that you should check out the dungeons, sir," said Albus. "Check for… you know. Hidden passages, or something."

"Check for hidden passages in the dungeons?" reiterated Wilcox, raising an eyebrow.

Something about that look said that Wilcox knew it had been Albus out of his bed at night, but Albus hadn't said this outright and so he hadn't incriminated himself. The desired effect was there, and Wilcox nodded.

"You and your father really love to get neck-deep in this stuff, don't you," said Wilcox, grinning. "All right, I'll check out the dungeons. I'm going to ask that _you_ _don't_ check out the dungeons. Got it?"

"Got it, sir."

"I'll let you know if I find anything," said Wilcox with a wink. "And I'd prefer it if you didn't quote me on any of _this_, either."

"Will do, sir."

"Albus?"

"Yes, Professor?"

"_Stay safe._"

"Yes, Professor."

Albus jogged out of the office with his friends.

O

"Welcome to your final!" said Professor Desulgon as they entered the Transfiguration classroom.

The classroom had been drastically altered for this separate final. There were no desks. One third of the classroom had been changed into a rocky ledge with a grassy patch in the center. Another third had been transformed into a seascape, with a small island of ice in the middle. The rest of the classroom was a deep hole with what looked like a floating cloud floating a few feet from the drop-off.

"This is a very small version of how an actual competitive dueling arena would appear," said Professor Desulgon. "There are three starting positions: Land, Sea, and Sky, the usual natural elements. Each has its advantages and disadvantages, so you have to choose wisely. At the beginning of a duel, a coin is tossed, enchanted to prevent any bias. Someone calls heads or tails. When it turns up, the winner chooses their starting position first, or can choose to have their opponent choose first so that they can respond.

"The intricacies are hard to explain, but I'll try. Sea is more offensive and less defensive. It's difficult to hold your ground on that little island, but it's easier to lash out without damaging your position. Land is more defensive—the rock is much more stable than the water—but it's harder to gather yourself for an attack. It may not be immediately evident that this is the case, but it's easier to see in a duel. And Sky is more versatile. That cloud island you see in the sky? It floats, and you can move it around, to dodge or to add force to your blows. _Salimotor!_"

Professor Desulgon bounded into the air and landed on the cloud. Waving one of his two wands, he skated around the Sky-themed area and then jumped back down. "Sky is more versatile because you don't have to commit to a location or a style," he continued. "That's why it was my preferred zone. So, would you like to see a real duel before we start our final?"

He gestured to the deep hole in the Sky position. A man with dust-colored hair and large light brown eyes climbed out of the hole and waved hello to them.

"This is Alfred Roy, my partner in Doubles' competitive dueling," said Professor Desulgon. "He's here to duel me, if you four would like to watch us."

"Yes!" cried four excited voices. Professor Desulgon nodded and took a coin from his pocket.

"Call it, Al," said Professor Desulgon.

"Heads," said Roy.

Albus had been about to call tails, thinking that Professor Desulgon was referring to him when he said "Al," but he closed his mouth just in time.

The coin hit the ground flat on heads.

"I'll take Sky," said Roy, and he jumped nimbly onto the floating cloud.

"I'll take Sea," said Professor Desulgon. "See, Al's move was strategic there, and the match hasn't even begun—you usually study your opponent beforehand, and Al knows that I'm best with Sky. So, to damage my chances, he's going to force me out of my comfort zone. But you'll see what might happen in the future—and why I took Sea for the attacking possibilities. Boys, you'd best stand right at the door, I've put an enchantment there so you won't get hit by anything."

Professor Desulgon walked briskly across the surface of the water using some sort of nonverbal spell, and stepped onto the ice island. He stowed his right-hand wand in his pocket.

"Only one wand at a time is allowed in competitive dueling," noted Professor Desulgon. He raised his other wand. "All right, Al, whenever you're ready."

They bowed, and then both stood still for a moment before an incredible display of flashy spellwork filled the room.

It was impossible to tell what was happening. All of the spells were nonverbal, and most did not manifest as jets of light, they simply affected the surroundings in a way that wasn't readily recognizable. The water in the Sea area started to slant, building up in the back like a sedated wave, and the ice island tilted until Professor Desulgon was leaning towards Roy at an angle that should have caused him to fall if he wasn't supporting himself with magic. There seemed to be a small sphere of light forming around Roy, which morphed itself into an odd, indistinguishable shape as he continued to prepare his defenses. Every once in a while, Professor Desulgon would unleash an attack. Roy's barriers seemed to be damaged whenever this happened, but Professor Desulgon also seemed to be knocked off-balance; Roy had employed Responsive Enhancements, which caused backlash to any of Professor Desulgon's attacks.

Then things started to get interesting. Professor Desulgon, apparently satisfied with the setup of his position, started on a clear attack. The water around him all turned to ice, and started flying like daggers into Roy's barriers. Professor Desulgon was enchanting the ice as it flew, and some of them broke through the defenses and came dangerously close to piercing Roy's body. Roy responded with attacking around Professor Desulgon's position, and destabilizing his opponent by wrecking his stance. Eventually, something he did triggered an avalanche, and Professor Desulgon, eyes wide, tumbled down the slope of ice he'd created and skidded to a halt near the bottom.

In response, Professor Desulgon leapt high into the air, creating a bright light at the ceiling. Now it was impossible to tell where he was hovering, because any time they looked up, they were blinded. The ice in Professor Desulgon's arena turned back to water, and then barreled forward in a gigantic wave, crashing into Roy's protective cage.

Roy had to zoom backwards on his cloud island and abandon most of his defenses. He cast several more, but it was too late: Professor Desulgon plummeted down from the ceiling and landed on the cloud.

They were four feet from each others' faces and still dueling hard. Eventually, Professor Desulgon started backing Roy up to the very edge of the cloud island, and Roy prepared to evacuate. As Professor Desulgon broke off from the duel and swept a leg under Roy's feet to try to knock him over physically, Roy leapt into the air and landed in the Land-themed area.

Now Professor Desulgon had his favorite area of Sky. He sailed around on the cloud island, commencing his attack. Roy clearly chose Land for its defenses, and his position was incredibly stable with just a few spells; the rocks around him built up like the walls of a fortress. But it looked to be over already. Professor Desulgon was zooming around at such a speed that it was hard to keep track of his flight path, firing spell after spell. A black ring started to form around the rock walls that Roy had produced, and after the ring seemed solid enough, Professor Desulgon waved his wand once and dove down the hole to escape the ensuing explosion.

Black flames rose from Professor Desulgon's ring and blasted into the center. Roy had many defenses already prepared, but the black ring had more powerful enchantments than his defenses; the rock walls shattered and rained down on Roy. The displaced duelist leapt into the air towards the Sea area, but a white band of light from Professor Desulgon's wand met him in his path. The white band wrapped around him until he resembled a mummy, and he splashed into the water. Professor Desulgon bounded off his cloud island and dove into the water, emerging with Roy's wand as Roy surfaced with a disappointed look on his face. There were also several cuts on his face. Dueling looked like an intense sport where it was not guaranteed you'd come out without a scratch.

Albus clapped loudly and earnestly with his friends, highly enthusiastic about the spectacle he'd just witnessed, as Professor Desulgon and Alfred Roy shook hands and then began healing their minor injuries. It was amazing how complicated it was to simply duel another person—position was all-important, infinitely more important than how well you could cast a Stunner.

"Did anyone pick up on why I chose the Sea as my starting location?" said Professor Desulgon.

Aidan raised his hand. Professor Desulgon called on him.

"You were always aiming to take the Sky area by force," said Aidan, "because it's your favorite position. And the Sea is the more offensive position, which let you attack."

"Righ'," said Roy. "And tha's why I focused on me defenses in the beginning more so'n me attacks. Didn' work, aye. Dalton has a knack for the attack."

"You probably could have avoided my physical intrusion by enacting more defenses based on the dodging capabilities of the Sky," lectured Professor Desulgon.

"Aye," sighed Roy, "you'd better git yourself a new dueling mate, mate. I'm not how I used to be, haven' been ever since me mum died two years ago."

"She was his dueling instructor," said Professor Desulgon sadly to the four friends. "They were both magnificent duelists—you're still a magnificent duelist, Al, you've just got to believe in yourself. What would she say to you if she saw you quit?"

Roy stroked his chin, where a little bit of stubble had formed. "She'd whap me hard in me bum wit' a sledgehammer."

Alec twitched with suppressed laughter.

Professor Desulgon grinned widely and nodded. "That's Megara Roy for ya. Poor woman. She taught your father in the Auror Office, Albus, did you know that?"

"No," said Albus, smiling. "Did she ever hit him in the bum with a sledgehammer?"

"You'll have to ask him that for me," said Roy.

"All right, enough small talk," said Professor Desulgon. "These boys have a final to take." He held up the coin. "Who wants to go first?"

"We're—going to duel?" said Aidan. "On that?"

He pointed to the wrecked dueling arena.

"I'll fix that," said Professor Desulgon. "Who wants to go first? You're each going to duel each other once, and you're all going to take one turn on each of the areas, Land, Sea, and Sky, so it doesn't really matter who goes first."

"I'll go," said Aidan and Alec simultaneously. They glanced at each other and grinned.

O

The duels were a lot like the ones played in the Dueling Tournament, except that everyone was a lot more cautious on the uneven terrain. Nobody could move the floating cloud island because no one knew the proper spell, and only Alec could really do anything with the water—he made a nice move by freezing it using _Kalazkos_ and shot an icicle at Aidan that knocked the wand right out of his hand while he tried to block it.

Alec went undefeated again. Albus only lost to Alec. Aidan and Eftan's match was deemed a tie when they both used the Full-Body Bind on each other at the exact same moment, resulting in a lot of hilarity. Professor Desulgon gave them a small bit of a Transfiguration final that, from what Albus had heard from Exo, was roughly the same as he'd given the class during the actual examination, and then patted them all on the back and wished them good luck in their applications to the A.R.M. program.

O

It was a week before exam grades came out. When they did, during the end-of-term feast on Friday, the day before they left, there was an extra envelope for anyone who had applied to take the Alternative Routes to Magic courses.

Albus tore the envelope open with sweaty hands and quickly scanned the letter, and when he saw the word _Congratulations,_ he jumped into the air and pumped a fist.

"Albus!" called Alec from the Ravenclaw table, waving his letter in the air. "I got in! I got in!"

"Me, too!" said Albus; over at the Slytherin and Hufflepuff tables, he could see Eftan and Aidan celebrating as well.

He read over his letter in full.

_Albus Severus Potter,_

_Congratulations—your application to the Alternative Routes to Magic (A.R.M.) program at Hogwarts has been approved. You will start at the beginning of the first term of your third year and continue until your graduation. If you have any questions, please direct them to Professor Wilcox, or to Jackie Glinrow, director of curricula. Thank you for your interest in the program._

_Good luck,_

_Helio Wilcox, Headmaster_

_Neville Longbottom, Deputy Headmaster_

_Yohn Dixon, Professor of Diwand Spells_

_Jeffrey Skower, Professor of Wandless Magic_

_Flower Pratley, Professor of Alternative Artifact Magic_

_Laney Norton, Professor of Modern Magical Instruments_

"I'm gonna have a professor named 'Flower?'" said Albus, laughing.

Exo was looking over the same letter—he'd been accepted into the program, too. "We already have a professor named 'Paragost,'" he said. "And just look at my family's names."

"What's your middle name, Exo?" asked Albus, suddenly realizing that he didn't know. "Do you have one?"

Exo reddened.

"What?" said Albus, trying not to sound like he was making fun of his friend. "Come on, it can't be that bad. Your first name is cool enough to make up for it."

"It's… Shawn," said Exo, looking sick.

Albus blinked. "That's a normal name."

"It's from my mom, her name was Shawna," said Exo. "I… don't like being named after my mom, since she kind of killed a lot of innocent people."

"Oh."

Rose was squealing with joy in the corner—she'd finally opened her letter. For a while, Albus had seen her cowering in fear of her letter, even though she was probably the biggest shoe-in to the program of their year, along with Aidan. He never understood why she was so nervous about grades, and probably never would.

"Students!" announced Wilcox, and the tables slowly fell silent. He cleared his throat and smoothed his robes, and then addressed them all.

"It is the end of another year. Another highly successful year! We have all done well, but some of us have done extraordinary things, and we will recognize those people now.

"This year, we implemented the Pre-O.W.L. and the Pre-N.E.W.T. tests for fourth year students and sixth year students, in order to prepare students for what they would see in the actual tests. They were taken just before the Easter holidays, and the results have been returned. We'd like to recognize the students who scored in the top one percent of the country. Please hold your applause until I have finished naming all students in both the Pre-O.W.L.s and Pre-N.E.W.T.s.

"In the top one percent of the country we had the following students: In the Herbology Pre-O.W.L., Augustus Longbottom of Gryffindor."

Albus glanced down the table to see James excitedly patting Professor Longbottom's son on the back and struggling not to cheer yet. They were in the same year and were fairly good friends.

"In the Defense Against the Dark Arts Pre-O.W.L., Spencer Greengrass of Ravenclaw. In the Ancient Runes Pre-O.W.L., Nyla Pryor of Ravenclaw. And in the Transfiguration Pre-N.E.W.T., Rona Kendrace. The top one percent of the country! What an achievement! Give them all a round of applause, everybody!"

Professor Desulgon was clapping emphatically and beaming at a nerdy-looking sixth year girl from Ravenclaw, who tossed back her hair and smiled smugly as her friends congratulated her. A boy who looked like the Greengrass triplets from Albus's year was congratulating a gorgeous Ravenclaw fourth year as she congratulated him. Albus hoped he'd get honored like this in his fourth and sixth years, and he set a new goal for himself to get in the top one percent of one of his Pre-O.W.L.s or Pre-N.E.W.T.s.

"Also," said Wilcox as the applause died down, "I would like to congratulate our first ever students to enroll in the historic new Alternative Routes to Magic program at Hogwarts. There were exactly twenty-four students to make the cut. Those students are, by house:

"From Gryffindor: Palila Bell, Albus Potter, Rose Weasley, and Exorian Wilcox!"

There was a smattering of applause, which was uncomfortable when Albus noticed he was surrounded by friends like Jonah who looked miffed about not making the cut.

"From Hufflepuff: Aidan Finch-Fletchley, Mia Moon, Juniper Smith, Skye Summers, and Allen Tibbett!"

More applause, and Aidan looked highly pleased. He glanced over at Rose and their gaze met in a challenging glare: Who was going to do better in the new program?

"From Ravenclaw: Kelly Aldrice, Dinah Bohr, Gadley Frasier, Holly Glissendale, Archie Greengrass, Ashton Greengrass, Sebastian Greengrass, Ilia Kaska, Lacy Leigh, and Alec McKinnon!"

Obviously the most would be from Ravenclaw. Albus nodded and clapped for his friends.

"And from Slytherin: Sylvester Alamandrine, Eftan Griffiths, Scorpius Malfoy, Abigail Quinn, and Jasmine Zabini!"

Albus had made friends with some pretty smart people. He hoped he could make more friends during next years' A.R.M. courses. It would be awesome if he could make friends with Scorpius Malfoy, though he knew that was a long shot. He hoped Scorpius wasn't in on bullying Eftan… but, if he knew Scorpius (and he didn't really but he could guess), Scorpius was the type of person who stayed in the shadows; he probably didn't care what Eftan was so long as Eftan left him alone.

"And finally, the House Cup needs awarding!" said Professor Wilcox. "The point totals would appear to be as such: In last place, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and eighty-eight points. In third place, Ravenclaw with four hundred and five points. In second place, Gryffindor with four hundred and thirty-two points. And in first place, we have Slytherin with four hundred and sixty-two points!"

The cheers were tremendous from the Slytherin table, and the Hufflepuffs looked glum, having gone from first to last since Euan Yodelhop left.

"Slytherin House wins the House Cup! Congratulations, congratulations. But… before we go, I have one final announcement to make. In regards to the noise that came from under the castle earlier this month."

All cheers and conversation stopped.

"The announcement is: please stop asking me questions," said Wilcox, looking tired. "I have no clue what happened."

There was some appreciative laughter, but the rest of the school was collectively worried that not even their headmaster knew what had happened.

"The most likely explanation is that rock is shifting in the chambers under the castle, and the groaning was the walls moving—do not worry, the castle is magically supported. However, I assure you that if there ever is cause for concern, we will take immediate care of those concerns. Have a safe summer, all, and we hope to see eighty-five point seven percent of you returning next year."

O

"That year went by quicker than last," said Alec, stretching his arms as they walked into the rain to meet the carriages which would take them to Hogsmeade Station.

"I thought it went slower," said Eftan.

"I think that the unit of 'year' is exactly the same length of time no matter what year they happen to be," reported Aidan.

They all looked at Albus.

"I didn't really notice," said Albus honestly.

"We'll see about next year," said Aidan.

"I don't know about you guys, but I am _dying_ to start Body-Binding people with two wands at a time," said Alec happily.

"Albus, are you okay?" said Eftan.

Albus stopped in front of the carriages, his mouth hanging open, the cogs in his brain clicking in realization. _This_ was what he saw in the forest with James.

"Thestrals," he whispered.

The large and skeletal winged horse was standing in front of the closest carriage. Through the downpour, he could see one in front of every carriage. He understood why James had gawked at them in the beginning of the year.

Professor Glinrow's words drifted back to him, slowly.

"_Staring at them for too long can force you to relive the death in your dreams the next night, so I suggest that you don't do that…"_

He didn't need any more nightmares about the bloody scene at the festival, that was for sure. He tore his eyes away and climbed into a carriage with Eftan and Aidan.

"Where's Alec?" he asked, looking around.

"He saw Mia and practically Apparated to her," chuckled Aidan.

The vacancy in their carriage did not last for long. Holly bounded into the cart and leaned her wet head on Albus's shoulder. He shivered, though it was very warm, and placed his hand on hers as they started to move, and he smiled.

O

The ride back to King's Cross was smooth and peaceful through the rain. Albus, Alec, Aidan, and Eftan were joined by Holly, Mia, Exo, and Sylvester in their compartment. There was only occasional conversation.

"So, what do you guys think that noise under the castle was?" asked Sylvester.

"I'd go with Professor Wilcox," said Aidan. "Probably just the walls creaking. It was in the middle of the night and nobody knew what they were hearing, really."

Sylvester narrowed his eyes at Aidan, who narrowed his back. The tension was strange. Everybody else in the group liked each other fine, but Sylvester just didn't like Aidan and the feeling seemed to be mutual.

Mia broke the edgy silence first. "So, Albus," she asked. "Are you and Holly a thing yet?"

Unfortunately, this replaced the tension with awkwardness.

"Er, what?" said Albus, the back of his neck beginning to itch terribly.

"Are you guys a thing?" she asked. "Are you dating?"

Aidan seemed to be even more agitated than before at this remark.

"I… I don't know," said Albus.

Holly shrugged. "Maybe," she said breathily.

"Have you kissed?" asked Mia.

"All right, _that's it!_" exploded Aidan, standing up in the compartment and shifting to catch his balance as the compartment rocked. "You stop that right now!"

No one else spoke.

"Are you going to stop?" asked Aidan, glaring at Mia.

"S-Stop what?" stuttered Mia.

"This whole charade!" shouted Aidan. "You really have to stop, you're going to hurt someone!"

Mia was as confused as everyone else; this was obvious.

"You're picking and prying where you shouldn't be. Albus's business is his business, so stop stirring up trouble with him and Holly just because you like him!"

Mia gasped, and Albus flushed a deeper scarlet than the Hogwarts Express. Alec mouthed something but was unable to vocalize it as he turned to look at Mia, crushed.

"I do not!" defended Mia. "Anymore!" she added.

"I've heard you plotting with all your little Hufflepuff girl friends!" scoffed Aidan. "'How do I get Albus Potter to notice me, especially while he's hanging around with Holly? I know, I'll date his friend, and then he'll be jealous!' I'm sick of seeing Alec so obsessed with you when you're only using him to get on Albus's nerves, it's just evil, so _stop it and leave us all alone!_"

"I like Alec!" cried Mia. "I always have, and you're talking nonsense!"

"I've heard your friends talking more than once about how you're just using him!"

"They're wrong!" yelled Mia.

"You manipulating liar!"

Then Mia grabbed the front of Alec's shirt and pulled him in to a hard kiss on the mouth.

It lasted for ten awkward seconds. Evidently neither of them had kissed before. Mia relaxed as it went on, and Alec appeared to melt in happiness.

Then Mia slowly pulled away, shot Aidan a death glare, and stormed out of the compartment.

"Mia!" shouted Alec, dashing out of the compartment. "I—Can—can we—can we do that again?" He disappeared after her.

Aidan was holding a hand over his mouth.

"Oh, Merlin," he said, tearing up. "I… Dani and Junie said… And then Skye told me… And Callie told me that Em said… Oh, Merlin, I screwed up."

"Pretty bad, too," said Sylvester contentedly.

Aidan burst out of the compartment looking close to tears.

Holly grimaced at Albus. "Er, I'm going to go try to smooth things over," she said, lifting herself from the seat and walking out the door.

There were four of them left in the compartment—just Albus, Eftan, Exo, and Sylvester—and no one rejoined them. Eventually the train pulled into the station, and Albus, not very pleased with the fact that those were the terms on which Alec and Aidan were leaving each other for the summer, had to just hope that things would die down over the break… He'd write to both of them and check up in a week or two.

He climbed out of the Hogwarts Express, finding his parents quickly in the crowd and picking up Gimmick and his trunk. They passed back through the barrier and hurried through the crowd of watching Muggles until they reached the car, magically enchanted with an expanded trunk with the permission of the Ministry. Then, while Lily told them a thousand times that it was only a few months until she attended Hogwarts for her first year, they began the long drive back to their home in Furlong's Notch.

The rain slowed until it was a drizzle. Albus leaned his head sleepily against the window; the thin clouds revealed that the sun was almost ready to set.

"So, kids," said Harry. "I'm going to try to be home as much as I can this summer, but unfortunately, that may not be very much."

"Are you closing in on those organized violence groups?" asked James; Albus knew he was recalling the letter that their father sent explaining why they would have to stay at the castle for the Easter break.

"Yes," said Harry. "We know their name, now, too. They're calling themselves the Sandbloods."

"Sandbloods?" snorted James.

"We think it's a play on the slur 'Mudblood,'" said Harry. "This is a gang of organized Squibs, arming themselves with Muggle technologies. I think they have to have some wizards who are sympathetic to their cause, though, because some of the havoc they've been wreaking… and how they could possibly be defeating Obliviators and Aurors in duels, I have no idea… anyway, what was I saying? The Squibs are angry that they've been treated as sort of a second class. Kind of like our situation with the werewolves when I was in school. They think people see them as worse than Muggles, because Muggles weren't _supposed_ to be magical. Trouble is, some people do act this way towards Squibs."

"There was that Thaddeus Thirkell guy who turned all seven of his Squib sons into hedgehogs," piped James.

"Yes, but that was in the 1600s or something," said Harry. Only the back of his head was showing, but Albus was sure he was rolling his eyes. "Right now, the Squibs are determined to… You know, I don't even _know_ what they're trying to do. Make wizards respect them? We think some of them are literally after world domination, or even the eradication of magic, maybe due to jealousy. These are just thoughts, though. We still don't have a ton of information on them. We think that they call themselves the Sandbloods because they're like Mudbloods—don't ever use that word, you two—except that instead of having dirty blood, their blood has 'dried up.' The magic in their blood has dried up and gone. Hence, Sandblood."

"Ah," said Albus.

"Auchland doesn't seem to think they're a threat," said Harry, shaking his head. "But Auchland doesn't think anything is a threat. Except us, now that we've petitioned for his dismissal."

"Is that going to happen?" asked Ginny excitedly.

"I think so. But maybe not now. If he doesn't prove himself soon, he's out of the picture, though."

"Finally," huffed Ginny. "How did you do it?"

"We got the papers on our side by stating some of the facts," said Harry. "Ron was brilliant in using Rita Skeeter to spread the word that Auchland is clearly being an ineffectual leader at this time. And Alana Falagair gave a long interview with her just yesterday on exactly how much everyone hates his guts. This time, when you see that Skeeter interview, it's probably not even going to be exaggerated… Alana really roasted him, there's no way for even Skeeter to take those hyperboles any further."

"How good an Auror _is_ Alana Falagair, anyway?" asked Ginny.

"Alana? She's one of the best," said Harry.

His wife seemed very put out by this news.

"Where was she during the Dark Revival?"

"Too young, I think," said Harry. "Nineteen at the time. And I know Adelina Nelson was younger, but she was an absolute _prodigy_. Alana was better suited to stay at the Ministry and help with the Potionmaking; she was always a fantastic potioneer. Now she's an excellent duelist, too, and quick as a whip when the situation mandates it. She's not the brightest, but she has great… _spell smarts_, if you know what I mean by that. Very valuable asset. Why?"

"She just seems so _ditzy,_" said Ginny. "And…" She breathed deeply. "And I don't like the way she looks at you."

Harry was taken aback.

"Oh—oh. Well—don't worry about that, now. She's really not that bad once you get to know her."

"I'm sure you know her very well," said Ginny stiffly.

The noises from the car were the only reasons that it wasn't dead silent.

"A—Anyway, as I was saying," continued Harry, "we think that the Sandbloods might very well be behind the disappearances at the Ministry. Possibly even breeding the mulunctapoli, if they are indeed being bred. Which makes for some very unsettling theories over at the office."

"Like what?" asked James.

"Like that the Sandbloods are using mulunctapoli to drain wizards of their magic and turn them into Squibs themselves," said Harry darkly. "And then also possibly using the Marionette's Medicine to control their minds and turn them into servants. Their eventual plan could just be to drain every wizard of magic."

Albus gulped.

"It is _incredibly_ fortunate that you found Dizzy wandering around Hogwarts, Al. You have no idea how far in the dark we would be if you hadn't—"

Harry cut himself off.

Albus stared at his father, waiting for him to finish, and then Harry's head suddenly ducked to the side as the rear and front windows shattered.

Lily screamed. Harry jerked the wheel when he dove, and the car spun out onto the sidewalk before he was able to correct himself; he swerved and tore down a side street.

"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?" shrieked Ginny, extracting her wand and looking backwards.

"Gunshot," grunted Harry, wide-eyed. "We're taking fire—I had my Supersensory Charm on to avoid looking in the wing mirrors, but it alerted me to someone—and they're still behind us—on motorcycles—god they're using powerful weapons, these windows are supposed to be—"

Another gunshot interrupted Harry as he ducked again. He pulled a lever that was fastened near the glove compartment, and slammed his foot on the gas. He pushed hard on the steering wheel, shoving it in towards the dashboard, and slammed his left fist on a button on the dashboard. The car bucked and then leapt into the air and zoomed hundreds of feet above the ground in seconds.

"They're on thestrals too!" choked James, looking back.

Albus glanced out the windowless rear of the car. There were two thestrals and four men—two on each thestral on makeshift saddles—the two in the front seemed to be steering, and the two in the back were holding long metal objects that Albus knew to be powerful Muggle weapons.

A burst of flame came from the closer thestral, and suddenly a metal rocket was flying directly at them.

Harry pulled the wheel hard to his chest and turned; they dove, spiraling towards the ground rapidly as all three kids screamed, and then he pulled up again; the rocket followed them, narrowly missing a building on its way down, but turned back upwards to pursue them through the sky again.

Ginny slammed a foot on her door, smashing it open, and nimbly leapt from the car with her hands gripped on the roof, spinning and contorting her body upwards and landing ninja-like on the roof of the car. "_Reducto!_" she cried, and Albus watched a jet of light fly from the top of the car to intercept the rocket, which exploded on contact in a shower of flame.

"One coming towards us from the ground!" howled Harry as he adjusted the wing mirror to face upwards so that he could see his wife; she didn't seem to hear him.

Albus watched in the mirror as Ginny pointed her wand at her feet. "_Concretus!_" she thundered, and her feet fastened themselves to the roof of the car so she wouldn't fall. "Feel free to spin, honey, just tell me when you're doing it!" she called. "_Expelliarmus!_"

The thestral at which she aimed took notice of her attack and dove, then slowly climbed back up; it looked like they were gaining.

"ONE COMING FROM THE GROUND!" roared Harry.

Ginny pointed her wand downward, but it was too late. The rocket had come from one of the motorcyclists below. A trail of smoke ended with a bang as the rocket smashed into the right side of the car and exploded.

Harry's nonverbal Shield Charm was just in time to prevent the flames from consuming Albus or destroying the entire car. When the Shield Charm faded, though, there was no floor to support Albus; he toppled from the car and only managed to prevent the long fall to the ground below by snatching the seatbelt.

"ALBUS!" bellowed Harry. "_Diffindo!_" He slashed his seatbelt rather than take it off. He blasted the driver's seat out of the car to make room, then heaved himself outside and grabbed Albus's arm. He tugged Albus up, tossing him into the passenger's seat as he hauled himself up next to his wife. "James, take the wheel!"

"WHAT?" bawled James, looking at the driver's seat in panic as the car began to lose speed.

"_James, take the wheel_!" shouted Ginny.

"I CAN'T DRIVE!"

"You're almost seventeen!"

"I'M FIFTEEN!"

"TAKE THE WHEEL, GODDAMNIT!"

James took the wheel, and pulled himself forward into the driver's position, except that there was no seat. He glanced backwards to see a thestral coming at him from the side and turned away from it; Harry and Ginny wobbled before catching their balance and slashing spells at the thestrals to back them off. Albus hugged Lily, who was wailing in terror, and tried to calm her down.

"HOW DO I EVEN STEER IN THE AIR?" shouted James.

"PUSH THE WHEEL FORWARD TO ELEVATE!" came Harry's voice in reply. "PULL IT TOWARDS YOU TO DIVE!"

"JAMES!" screamed Ginny. "WATCH OUT FOR THAT MOUNTAIN!"

"I SEE IT, MUM!" yelled James back up to her. "I SEE IT, IT'S A BLOODY MOUNTAIN, IT'S LIKE HALF A MILE HIGH, HOW THE HELL COULD I NOT SEE THIS BLOODY MOUNTAIN!"

"DON'T YOU GET FLIP WITH ME!"

"STOP ANTAGONIZING ME WHEN I'M TRYING TO SAVE ALL OUR LIVES!"

"YOU SWERVE THIS FLYING CAR AWAY FROM THAT MOUNTAIN THIS INSTANT OR YOU ARE GROUNDED!"

"_MUM!_"

"FOCUS ON THE DAMNED CAR!" exploded Albus as Harry and Ginny sent twin jets spiraling after one of the thestrals; the riders both fell off, plummeting towards the ground until they opened parachutes and drifted gently.

Harry shot two spells, one for each of the falling men, and they were instantly wrapped in ropes that snaked around their bodies and parachutes; they dropped like stones the rest of the fifty feet onto the roofs of buildings and were motionless. He and Ginny teamed up to take on the other thestral, and, seemingly aware that they were defeated, the thestral bucked and turned the other way.

A shot rang out from below—the thestral cried out in terror and then its wings crumpled. It plunged from the air, dislodging its two riders who also opened parachutes. Albus glanced down to see flashing police lights and a police helicopter coming their way, and he half laughed, half sobbed in relief.

"DON'T TRUST THE HELICOPTER!" Harry thundered. "WE DON'T KNOW WHERE THEIR ALLIANCE LIES. GET US BACK TO HOME, THERE'S AN ENCHANTMENT THERE!"

"I DON'T KNOW HOW TO GET HOME, AND _ESPECIALLY NOT FROM THE FREAKING AIR!_" James burst out.

"ALL RIGHT, ALL RIGHT, I'LL TAKE THE WHEEL!"

But before Harry could detach himself from the top of the car, another gunshot hit the car. Another struck after that, and a third, and then something happened inside the car and it exploded.

A searing pain streaking across Albus's eye, he fell freely through the air until Ginny shouted "_BOLSTRA!_" and he felt as if he'd hit a cushion before he dropped to the ground.

"STUPEFY!" roared Harry, but the man who was hurdling towards them bounded out of the path of the spell and whipped out two handguns.

"_EXPELLIARMUS!"_ shouted Ginny; both handguns flew out of his hands. He unhooked a larger gun.

"IMPEDIMENTA!" yelled Harry.

Their pursuer slammed to a halt as Ginny cried out, "MANCESSO!"

The man's hands snapped out straight on either side of his body and his head flew backwards. His feet struggled as he was lifted up into the air as Ginny kept her wand pointed towards him.

"Who sent you?" she snarled. "Tell us!"

"B-Beware," he uttered shakily.

For a moment as Albus scrambled to his feet to get a better look, he thought that the man was stammering out of fear, but he realized that the man was actually laughing as he finished.

"B-Beware the _S-Sandblood Rising_."

"The Sandblood Rising?" growled Harry suspiciously. "What on Earth are you talking about? Is this some form of organized attack—WHAT—"

The man was now convulsing violently. His arms, bound by the spell, were still, but his entire body was twitching and writhing as if in pain.

"_What are you doing to him?_" demanded Harry tremulously as he turned to his wife.

She looked just as terrified as her husband. "I'm not doing anything!" she clamored.

The man went limp and was completely still.

"He's faking," said Ginny nervously. "He wants me to stop."

"_Homenum Revelio,_" said Harry quietly.

There was no effect.

"Merlin's balls, he's _dead_," said Harry, pulling back his hair, eyes wide.

"How?" asked Ginny, trembling. "I swear, I did nothing to him other than hoist him up in the air!"

Harry shook his head. "I don't know. But I think it was a suicide… after being caught. So that he wouldn't be incarcerated."

"Why would anyone do that?" choked Ginny, horrified.

"If someone was controlling their minds to do it, they'd do it without question," stated Harry ominously. "But… remember, some people simply… don't pay death any mind. For some people, death is just… just the next great adventure."

People were advancing to get a look, but most of them shrieked and ran off when they saw the witch and wizard with their wands out, staring at a corpse.

Harry placed his hand over his mouth and eyed their surroundings, checking for assassins in the shadows. He was breathing shallowly and rapidly.

"I'm not going to leave you alone this summer," he declared to all of them, turning around to look at his kids. "If I can't be there myself, I'll get Dedalus, or Hestia, or another retired old friend to stay with you guys, to keep you all safe."

He swallowed shakily and glanced at his wife, whose eyes were glistening.

He walked to her and placed both hands on her shoulders.

"Listen, honey," he said soothingly. "I may not be able to stick around but I'll get someone to be with you to protect all of you. Someone we know we can trust. But I want you to know that I would never leave you at all if I didn't feel like I had to. This, what almost just happened to our family? It's going to happen to other families. But if I can help it, I'm going to help it."

"I know you have a saving-people thing," said Ginny, smiling through tears that were welling up. "And I know you know that I love you, and I always will." She drew herself up to her full height and nodded. "Do what you have to do."

Harry nodded back, and gestured to the three kids to come close. Albus and James helped Lily up. A trickle of blood dripped down over Albus's eye and he closed it, hoping that the wound from which it originated wasn't too bad… and hoping that this was the last wound he'd receive.

They walked to their father and each gripped him on the arm. Harry and Ginny turned together on the spot. They vanished, headed for home… and, although they didn't know it, headed for the next great adventure.

* * *

_**Hope you enjoyed it. Thanks for reading! If you haven't reviewed yet on this story, let this be the chapter on which you review. Let me know what parts of the book you didn't like as much, so I can write improve on it, and which parts were your favorites, so I can write more like that.**_

_**Stay tuned: next week brings the first chapter of Book 3, Albus Potter and the Sandblood Rising.**_


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